


Righteous Side of Hell

by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actual Demon Dean Winchester, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bounty Hunter Castiel, Canon Compliant, Canon Predictions, Charlie Bradbury is a Winchester, Chuck is a dick, DCBB2019, Dean/Cas Big Bang, Dean/Cas Big Bang 2019, Demon Dean Winchester, Destiny, Domestic Fluff, Early dawn breakfasts, Emotional Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fate, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Free Will, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lonely Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Mal wrote a thing, Manipulation, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, My prediction for post season 15, Open windows, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Red String of Fate, Spoilers after this tag, Star-crossed, Switching, TFW SURVIVES, The Winchesters are all demons, They/Them Ash, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Wing Kink, Wings, crackling fires, happy end, new world order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-12-16 07:03:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 71,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21032192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Kat/pseuds/Maleyah
Summary: Bounty hunters are notorious for getting by on their wits and training. Those who don’t usually land six feet under. Castiel’s been around the block. A former member of The Seekers, he navigates the underbelly of the world alone, his reputation preceding him, his past slithering up in the darkest hours of the night. Sometimes he allows himself to dream of early dawn breakfasts, crackling fires and open windows.One night, high on adrenaline, he boasts there’s a demon watching over him.Guardianship is a divine job. Divine beings are wired for it. Sometimes, however, a peculiar mix of elements draws a less than angelic creature into the mix. These unusual combinations tend to be volatile in nature and the human involved usually doesn’t live long. When he gets bombarded into being a guardian, Dean plans on getting rid of ‘his human’ in a heartbeat. Until he recognises the mess of dark hair and those blue eyes. The last time he saw them, their owner had been sprawled against his bed sheets.Well, fuck me, was the most eloquent thought he could muster in his head.And then they dumped a phonebook worth of rules in his lap. Dean had always despised rules.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for DCBB 2019. 
> 
> CrzyDemona provided the gorgeous artwork, embedded in the fic, and it was a blessing working with her. You can find the art post [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161120). 
> 
> [Kindathewholepoint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindathewholepoint/profile) beta'd this, which was another lovely cooperation. It is also my first run for DCBB and I had a massively good time. Counting my lucky stars!
> 
> The working title was 'Of Humans and Demons', but near the end, Five Finger Death Punch provided me with the right title: 'Righteous Side of Hell' from their song, 'Wrong Side of Heaven'. I would recommend a [listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_l4Ab5FRwM).
> 
> Minor character death applies (see tags), cause it ain't a Winchester party until someone dies.
> 
> Come join fellow SPN/Destiel weirdo aficionados on [the Profound Bond Discord server](https://discord.gg/profoundbond)! Demons of a feather flock together <3
> 
> Other than that, enjoy! Comments are stupidly welcome!

_There was a time when Heaven and Hell existed, balanced like many other planes of existence. Asgard. Valhalla. Tír na nÓg. The Otherworld. Nirvana. _

_ The Adversary coveted them all. As one of the Seven Deadly Sins, he ruled the Legions of Wrath. His song of wrath sings through their veins, ever luring them into the darkest depths of their anger. _

_ Unbeknownst to his demon kin, The Adversary plotted to overtake all planes of existence, from the divine to the fiendish, and ending with Earth. Sending forth his Legions, one by one, the planes of existence fell, his wrath fuelled by Humanity’s destruction of its only planet. The Otherworld and Tír na nÓg fell first, Valhalla and Nirvana came next. Neither Heaven nor Hell took action, believing his thirst would be sated. Purgatory was opened and released its demons. Then Heaven and Hell succumbed. _

_ Only Asgard and her Rainbow Bridge held the line. _

_ As did Earth. _

_ Heaven and Hell were steeped in blood, divine and fiendish alike. Choices were made. Alliances of the unlikeliest kind were formed between demons, angels and humans. The proverbial gates of Earth opened for supernatural refugees of all kinds. Humanity became aware of the supernatural on an unprecedented scale. Underestimating the consequences, rules and regulations followed suit, straitjacketing every supernatural being into obedience and, preferably, invisibility. Ghettos formed, memories were wiped. A bargain was struck, wherein angels promised to act as guardians to humanity. _

_ A new kind of balance was found on Earth. Many supernatural beings now live among humans, foregoing their previous ways of life. Many humans were terrified or furious at the uprooting of their lives. All had trouble adjusting. Consequently, many had their memories wiped entirely in an attempt to return to some semblance of normalcy. Still others prefer to cling to the old ways, seeking to restore the balance of old, whatever the cost. _

_ To this day, the rickety alliance between the supernatural and humanity holds in an attempt to keep The Adversary’s Legion at bay. _

_ The Winchester family’s patriarch, John, was accused of conspiring with The Adversary. Their Patriarch gone rogue, the Winchester family was adopted into the Pride Legions, under Lucifer’s rule. They now walk among humans and work as Fate demons to make amends for John’s mistakes. In the wake of his demotion, adjusting to a life on Earth and the disappearance of his wife, John vanished, leaving three children under the care of Ash and Bobby. His sons, Sam and Dean, walked diverging paths: Dean took up the mantle of family patriarch, Sam chose a human life with his girlfriend and fellow lawyer, Eileen. His adopted daughter, Charlie, became the family scryer in their mother's absence. _

_ In all this chaos lives Castiel, a human bounty hunter, who accidentally summons himself a demon guardian, Dean Winchester. _


	2. Arms Wide Open, I Stand Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My kind isn’t generally known for our healing abilities, Cas. You should have asked for an angel for that.”
> 
> Castiel sneered. “Fuck that. This is way better.”

Castiel ran at top speed, his boots stomping on the gravel towards the fire escape. A dark form was climbing it rapidly and he needed to catch up. Three days was too long for a simple bounty like The Dentist. His smarting right hand agreed.

He winced when the voice wailed in his left ear. “Cassie, how much _longer _until you catch this guy? I’m starving! I thought you were good at this.”

He huffed his answer between breaths. “You’re in the damn van, Gabe. I’m sure there’s a stash you’re hiding somewhere.”

“I’m more worried about my dates. I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Dates, plural? You’re a disgrace,” Castiel bit. He went hand over hand, shooting through the narrow fire escape, leaving blood trails every two rungs.

“Says the outcast.”

“Everyone’s an outcast, these days.” Castiel vaulted over the side of the building and found his charge thundering ahead, already halfway across the asphalt roofing. With a low grunt, he pulled one of his bolas out of his trench and sent it swinging low with a flick of his wrist. The incoming woosh-woosh-woosh sound made The Dentist cry out in despair.

“No, no, NO! You said you’d help me!” 

It took Castiel a split second to realise who he was talking to and he cast a quick glance up at the darkened skies. “Gabe! He has a fucking guardian!”

“No way! Oh, I hope he shows up! Haven’t seen one in _ ages_.”

Castiel pursed his lips and refrained from stating the obvious. The _ last _ thing he wanted was a guardian joining the stage.

The bolas caught both of The Dentist’s legs and he went over the edge of the building with a squeal. Castiel let out a short manic laugh and sped up, hoping that his bounty wasn’t making a beeline for the ground. He gripped the side of the roof and saw The Dentist splayed out and unmoving about 5 feet down. 

“It had been dead _or _ alive, right?” he asked, while he made for the next fire escape.

“What did you do this time, Cassie?”

“I didn’t do anything. He just ran into my bolas and swan-dived off a building onto another building.” 

“Ran into your… Well, do you _ have _ him? Cause the bounty said alive.”

Castiel sucked in air between his teeth, as he pushed off of the ladder. When he noticed his charge was still breathing, he allowed relief to flood his system for a few seconds. Reaching for The Dentist, Castiel grunted when the man’s fist collided with the left side of his head. A high-pitched whine in his ear told him the ear piece was out. Lightning-quick, Castiel dodged and elbowed The Dentist in his teeth, knocking him down. Without hesitation, he got out his cuffs and cursed the stars down when the sting of his wound penetrated through the high of his catch. Looking at his hand, he found a trio of deep cuts running from one side of his palm to the other, his glove ruined. Anger flashing in his eyes, he leaned forward to put the cuffs on.

“Not so tough now, are you, assbutt?” he growled.

The hands tied securely, Castiel jerked him around until he was back on his feet – unsteadily, but he couldn’t give a rat’s ass. His charge bared his teeth at him.

Blood welled up out of his fist into The Dentist’s shirt, but he ignored the pain. His muscles were burning with the efforts of the past three days. The buzz he felt more than made up for it and was the main reason he did what he did for a living. Castiel wiped sweat off his face, smearing blood across it, while he grinned a megawatt smile.

“Most of you don’t know this, but I got me a demon guardian. None of that angel shit for me. They never get anything done right. And clearly _ your _ guardian was off his game tonight.”

Sort of. To be fair, this guy had been more trouble than he was worth, literally forcing him into the gutter.

Before The Dentist could react, Castiel landed a well-aimed blow to the temple – juuuust right to knock him out. Huffing out a few breaths through his nose, he patted down his jacket for his smokes and lit one while fiddling with his ear piece. The little blue light turned back on and he dialled his brother.

Gabriel picked up on the second ring. “Speak to me, baby brother.”

Castiel forced a smile into his tone. “Ready for our Uber, Gabe. Ping my location.”

Gabriel snorted. “Blow me, Cassie, next time I’m on chase duty.”

“Only if we’re still working together.”

He hung up, ensuring his location services were on, and waited for his ride. As a rule, industrial plots made for the worst hunting ground. Except for the aftermath, he mused. Castiel appreciated the sudden calm in which he was able to _ be _ for those few stilted moments in time, smoking, looking up at the sky and allowed to just breathe. There were no stars to see. Hadn’t been for as long as he could remember. 

Still… it provided a moment of relief. If he stood high enough, the wind tugged at his trench and he could enjoy the suspended moment. Aside from sleeping, his life was a near non-stop chain of action and reaction, provocation and retaliation. He hadn’t been joking about a demon guardian, though to be fair, he didn’t put much stock in anything that reeked of the supernatural. Mainly because their kind was, by and large, illegal, when they weren’t tied down by an endless set of rules. The odds of a bounty hunter’s charge, morally ambiguous at best, having a guardian were as astronomical as were the odds of Castiel himself getting one.

He shrugged, perhaps at himself, perhaps at the skies, dropping the cigarette butt to the roof and crushing it. His hand smarted like a swarm of bees had stung him. With a soft hiss, he plucked at the glove, but decided to let that wait until he was home. The light of his brother’s van appeared in the distance and closed in at an alarming speed. Castiel watched it come to a dodgy halt at the side of the building. With the ease of years of practise, they got The Dentist down the fire escape with their pulley system.

“You look like a bloody version of William Wallace.”

Castiel tilted his head at his brother for a split-second. Not bothering with a retort, he grabbed The Dentist under the armpits, while Gabriel lifted his feet. 

“Isn’t the whole point of guardians that they help you in a time of need?” Gabriel asked, as he hoisted the dead weight up and into the van.

“I’ve long foregone any faith in those feathery farts.”

Gabriel mouthed the words ‘feathery farts’ with a quizzical glance at his brother, but remained uncharacteristically quiet while he got behind the wheel. Getting into the passenger’s seat, Castiel picked up a tablet and looked up the nearest bounty hunter’s agency.

“Excellent, it’s only an hour to the nearest handover point.”

“Don’t you dare take a nap, Cassie. Get in the back and strap that idiot down.” 

“I think you’re mistaking your own tendencies with mine. I don’t _ nap_.”

Castiel stepped in between the two front seats, as the van lurched forward with a loud crank of the gears. Gabe was good with machinery, but why he refused to go digital with this ancient vehicle was a mystery. Castiel had fought tooth and nail to get him to install the necessities to be able to plug in phones and tablets, mainly for their own safety. It also provided one hell of a sound system. He grimaced at the layer of mud and other unmentionables on his pants. Pretty much the whole outfit was ruined and he smelled like a sewer.

In the back, The Dentist stirred. Head like a brick, Castiel thought, while he strapped the man to the metal bars welded onto the inside of the van. The Dentist’s head lolled from side to side, until his eyelids fluttered open. Castiel squatted, tossing his coat behind him and stared at his charge.

“How’s your head?”

“I haven’t had any complaints. How’s yours?”

Castiel frowned; Gabriel chuckled behind the wheel. “Oh, a sense of humour under duress. I can see we’ll get along.”

“Your angel wasn’t of much use to you, was he?” Castiel asked.

“She, actually. And what’s it to you? Jealous?”

Castiel’s eyes did a trick. He felt many things with regards to angels. Jealousy wasn’t one of them. 

Ever since the supernatural influx of refugees decades ago, humanity had done what it did best. They’d opened the doors to save them. When the influx wouldn’t stop and the dynamics on Earth changed, they realised the impact it had on their reality. Rules and regulations followed. Memories wiped. Choices forced. Ghettos built. The supernatural bordered on the illegal. Their movement and freedoms restricted. Unless, of course, they integrated and pretended they were anything but what they were and proved useful.

Sometimes angels wandered into a bounty hunters’ den, if they carried commissions on them, but those were few and far between. As much as humans knew, they preferred to pretend they didn’t.

“Hardly. I’ve had to deal with one once. It’s interesting… They try to apply to your decency, but that’s rich when it comes to your type.”

“She’ll get me out, my angel.” The Dentist made to spit blood and Castiel clamped his left hand over his mouth and nose with enough force to make him reconsider. 

“I know my brother’s van looks like a relic, but don’t. And I’d be surprised if she does. I’ve seen a demon guardian once. His negotiating skills far outmatched angels.”

With a sigh, Gabriel switched the sound system on, blasting one of his heavy rotation playlists, which Castiel still thought was based on his brother’s favorite porn channel.

*

Dean stared, mesmerised by Charlie scrying over the bowl of water in their garden. He sat squatting opposite her and the tip of his tail twitched, empathetic to the visible effort it took her to remain focused. Sweat was beading down her forehead and her brown eyes were squeezed shut.

“Sam,” he whispered. This was probably one of the few times he whispered on principle. “_Sam_.”

His younger brother looked up from the leather-bound book he was reading in the bench swing. “What?”

“Is she okay?”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. “By Lucifer’s forked tongue, I thought Dad was bad. For the third time, yes, she’s _ fine_. She’s just practising. We saw Mom do it dozens of times. It’s an intricate process. Put your tail away.”

“Huh?”

“Put your _ tail _ away.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged the order off, flicking the tip of his tail in silent mutiny. “The garden shields us. Besides, this is Lawrence. They like us here.”

They both fell quiet and Dean leaned an inch closer to look at the surface of the water. As usual, he didn’t see anything. The talent had been their Mom’s, Sam’s and to a lesser extent hers, which is why she was practising so hard. In theory, fate demons scried to determine – surprisingly – one’s fate. By rule, only others’ fates. It was not meant to go digging in the past or for personal use. She had to practice though. It ain’t a Winchester party until the rules were broken. The fact that they hoped to find a trace of their father in the process was a bonus. Or against better judgement, their mother.

With a gasp, her eyes opened and she ran her trembling hands through her fiery hair. “Nothing. Shit. Nothing, nothing, _ nothing_.”

Dean reached for her hands and applied gentle pressure until her eyes focused on his face. “You’re safe, Charlie. You’re here.”

With effort, her breathing calmed down and she nodded. There was a glimmer of tears in her eyes as she stared at the water, visibly frustrated. “I couldn’t see him.”

“Neither of us could, sis.” Sam pitched in, his voice gentle, with that soothing edge Dean sometimes envied. Ever since their father had gone, Dean had been bumped up to patriarch and it put a strain on his reserves, though he’d be damned if he ever showed it. Before he’d just been one of many wrath demons. Clenching his teeth, Dean shied away from that _ before_.

The sound of heels approaching made all three Winchesters turn their heads. From their glass porch, they saw Ash walk into the garden. Dean watched his siblings’ faces light up with the glow of childhood affection and tried to keep up, but he could tell from Ash’s expression this was no social visit.

Charlie bounced up, nearly knocking the bowl over, and hugged their foster parent. Ash cupped her face on both sides with a warm look in their eyes, pecked her on the cheek as they pulled Sam into a hug.

“Sorry to encroach on your weekend, sweethearts, but I need to steal Dean for a while.”

“I thought humans respected downtime! We were going for a ride to that new burger place today.”

“Some do. And I promise I’ll send him back as soon as I am able.”

“Jeez,” Charlie moped, as she kicked at the grass. “Still not used to it.” Then her frown vanished and she looked up at Ash. “Wait… Why?”

“Family business.”

“We are the family business,” Sam said mildly.

“If anything, _ she _ is,” Ash offered. “_You _ decided otherwise.”

“We’re family regardless,” Dean grunted as he crossed his arms. “Ash, this was supposed to be family time.”

“Well, when you’re not banging some human senseless,” Charlie put in with a pleased squint.

Dean’s face flushed up like an exploding red star. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“What? You were gone for five days and we don’t even know his name.”

“Three,” he grit through clenched teeth. “Not that it’s anyone’s business, but mine.”

Amused, Ash eyed the Winchester siblings. “Anything else you need off your chest?” 

Of the two foster parents, they had always been the most likely to cave. Bobby had been and still was a whole other matter.

“Nope, I’m good,” Charlie smiled. 

“Then we get the benefit of seeing everyone’s surprise to learn that you, my good man, have been promoted to guardianship.”

“What?” Dean said, his tail flicking towards Sam.

“Oh, shit.” Sam’s eyebrows shot up as he dodged his brother’s tail.

“Yay!” Charlie clapped her hands, but her face fell upon watching her siblings. “Not good?”

“It’s bad,” Dean snapped. “Demons don’t play guardian! That’s feather business.”

“It’s not necessarily either,” Ash nuanced. “And as it stands, we have precedents.”

“We do?” Sam asked, curiosity piqued.

“A few,” they nodded. “Quite rare and usually short-lived.”

“How come?”

“Take a wild guess,” Dean snarled. “The demon killed the human, right?”

“Not per se, but such matches can be violent.”

“How did this happen?” Sam asked.

“Who is it?” Charlie added.

“You know what,” Dean interrupted. “No. You were right, Ash. This is not the place. We’re going.”

“Dean!” his siblings protested in unison.

“Nope! Let’s fucking go, Ash.” Without waiting for Ash, Dean walked inside to put on his leathers and boots. He heard Ash bid fast goodbyes to Charlie and Sam, before following him inside as he was vigorously tying his boots. Ash stood still, waiting. Dean clenched his teeth.

“Did you drive here?”

“No, I bamfed.”

This time around, Dean eyed them. Bamfing or any other form of supernatural powers had to be used with great care, even for himself and Ash and anyone else working at Halting Woofers, Kansas City branch. Ash gave an unapologetic shrug. 

“I may have had a gut reaction to the news.”

“Do I need to have one too?” Dean rose and thumbed in the direction of the garage. “We’ll take Baby.”

“From the looks of it, you already are.”

They walked to the garage in silence. 

“Well, should I?” Baby roared to life and Dean was momentarily distracted by her vibrations. He patted the steering wheel. One of the perks of living a semi-human life he’d definitely gotten attached to. Ash smirked and Dean realised he’d missed part of the conversation, as he turned her onto the road.

“Sorry, what?”

“Glad to see not even this can distract you from the small blessings in life. I said that a human managed to summon you last night.”

“It’s temporary, I’m sure.” He opened the windows on Baby, the warm air billowing in. “You say he summoned me? How the hell even?”

Ash’s yellow eyes narrowed, remembering. “It is not completely unheard of.”

Oh, _ really_, cause Dean had never heard of it before. Ash’s lecturing voice seeped in when he spoke.

“As we well know, most people prefer the divine. It’s natural, it’s safe, it’s highly inefficient, but it’s still the natural order of things. Usually when they meet the not so divine, they panic. This one, however,” Ash waved a hand, as if remembering a visual Dean wasn’t privy to, “seems to have used a blood ritual.”

“By accident! Right?” Dean protested. “How does that even count?!”

“Those are the rules. There seems to be a connection, or you wouldn’t have come up as a match.”

“Ash, we’re demons. We don’t _ guard_. We upset the balance, we create riots, revolutions, we mess in politics, break hearts, lie, cheat, deceive… I mean, even in the family business these days, we aren’t about that. We’re all about fate and destiny. Any and all of that, but playing guardian to some random human… What the actual hell?”

“Perhaps this is your fate.” Dean shot his foster parent a withering stare and Ash smiled. “Alas, this is out of my hands. We are bound by universal law.”

“We are? Even with Heaven and Hell and who knows how many other planes burning? You’d think some leeway could be given.” Dean pushed himself into the seat, hands squeezing the wheel. His tail had appeared under his ass and he had to adjust a bit, tip quivering near the brakes. “Do we at least have a name?”

“Castiel Novak.”

Dean made sure to keep his face straight, jaw going slack, but his tail stopped moving. Ash side-eyed him, a smile tugging at the corner of their mouth. “Does that ring a bell?”

When an answer wasn’t forthcoming, Ash nodded. “That means your holidays are over and you’ll be moving to another supervisor.”

Dean rubbed his hand over his face, sliding over the stubble on his jaw. The mention of holidays called up the decidedly not-work-related things he’d been up to little under a week ago. After a short silence, he muttered. “Just lay it on me, Ash.”

In the heavy silence that followed, Dean’s heart picked up the pace and he reluctantly caught on… or thought he did, and felt he needed to double-check. Like really double-check. “Upstairs?” he asked, his tone lilting up near the end.

When Ash nodded, indignation coiled up around Dean’s spine and his human form evaporated.

“Dean… Control yourself,” Ash hissed. Dean could feel the rows of small scales on his spine fan out and helplessly spread his fingers, palms pressing into the leather, his hands a dark shade of burgundy.

“You’re sending me to the angels?”

“Whatever you wish to call them, you know we’re more than a label, but yes, for all intents and purposes you have been assigned to the angels. Like you correctly pointed out, we usually don’t do this, so whenever this kind of… occurrence comes up, we delegate our people. Now, please, control your form, before one of them sees you.”

To his own surprise, Dean felt the cold hand of panic squeeze his gut. _ Delegate. Delegate? _

He had never known anything but Hell before it had gone to shit, and then life among the humans. He’d grown up with his mother, father and siblings. When his father had fucked off to the ends of the earth, or beyond, in the aftermath of The Adversary’s Coup, the Winchester kids had been left to their own devices, under the firm hand of both Ash and Bobby. To be thrown out like this…

And for fuck’s sake, on top of the family business and the war on The Adversary, now he’d be tied to a human?! Technically, not just _ any _human, but still…

“Delegate,” he chewed the word. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

Ash, always sensitive to their pupil’s mood, briefly touched Dean’s forearm.

“It is what it is, kiddo. You still belong with us.”

“But how does it work? Do I live with those feather pillows? Do I stick with this guy 24/7? What? Please, Ash, tell me I don’t need to be glued to this guy 24/7.”

His insides were at war about why exactly that would be such a bad thing.

“The angels will explain. Universal law states you need to make contact with your charge tonight, so that is your first stop after we talk this through with Crowley. He has the details you need.”

“Oh, he must be having a field day.” Dean’s eyes flitted to Ash and back to the road, as he jutted his chin out. “Sort of a meet and greet?”

They chuckled. “All humans have to be made aware they are charge to their guardian. Once you’re done, report up top.”

“There’s something I never thought I’d hear in my life.”

*

Feeling his legs fighting against the caked grime at the joints and hips, Castiel decided in favour of the elevator to travel to his 8th floor safe haven. He stood still in its glaring light, back decidedly to the mirror, the Muzak enveloping him as he stared at the ceiling and nothing in particular, loosely holding onto his backpack and MP5. Even in the middle of the night, he hoped he wouldn’t come across any of the other residents, carrier permit be damned. In the back of his mind, he was trying to come up with ways to move about his apartment with minimal mess. One leg got jittery on the way up, and he rushed inside.

It took some serious maneuvering and a lot of cursing, but he managed to make it to his bathroom, leaving insignificant traces. Once there, he fell into an easy routine of ditching his dirty clothing in an already prepared bath of vinegar and soap. He gagged at the stink that wafted up to meet him and moved the plastic tub to the laundry room. His shower was long, warm and painful. This was the aftermath of any hunt, when the fall-out of his tendency to dismiss his body’s signals caught up with him. Peeling the glove off his wounded right hand was the worst of it. After, he threw on a fresh shirt and slacks, and padded to the living room to take care of his hand.

Castiel grunted around the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. He sat in the three-seater couch in his apartment. Despite removing the glove beforehand, pieces of leather had gotten stuck in the cuts and he was prying them out with a pair of sterilized tweezers. Bloody cotton balls were scattered on the glass coffee table. All in all, this was peanuts, compared to some of the other shit he’d gotten himself into. Still... It was his dominant hand.

With a mild sigh, he refocused his attention. The apartment felt empty. Emptier than usual and that was saying something.

He put the tweezers down for a second, rested the cigarette on the ashtray and took a gulp from his whiskey. Squinting at his hand, looking for remaining pieces, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, near the open window. The warm night air barely succeeded at tugging the heavy curtains. Something was off. Maintaining his focus, he put the cigarette back to his lips and inhaled deeply.

In one smooth move, he picked up his recently cleaned gun with his left hand, aimed and pulled the trigger.

“Whoa, calm the hell down, Cas!”

His visitor stepped out of the shadows, palms out, and he’d be damned if he didn’t recognise that face on the spot. Castiel was also damned sure he hit his mark, but Dean seemed unharmed. What he was doing in his apartment or how the fuck he’d got in here without him noticing was another matter.

Dean stood still, his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, an expression like marble on his face that Castiel didn’t quite remember, but that could be the darkness playing tricks on his eyes.

“Hello, Dean.”

He narrowed his eyes at Dean and tilted his head slightly, when he got no immediate reply. His index finger was not off the trigger yet.

“Really? _ Hello, Dean? _ That’s what you’re going with?”

“I _ could _ just shoot you again for trespassing.”

Dean’s face flitted between insult and speculation on whether Castiel was joking.

Castiel’s sense of humor was – largely – a front, something he was convinced he’d picked up through monkey-see-monkey-do and not because he actually possessed one. Over the years, he’d learned that he took matters seriously to the point of self-destruction. The cynicism seeped in as a matter of survival, because bounty hunters thrived on it. A fair part of the underbelly of the world did. Castiel always felt a bit out of place, whenever he spun something that resembled humor. It was all too fleeting.

He had, in fact, not been joking.

“You could try.” Something in Dean’s eyes unsettled Castiel. He understood when Dean lifted his hand and dropped the bullet to his stone floor. It landed with a delicate tink. Castiel didn’t let his unease show. Perks of the job. His eyebrows did rise in a silent question and Dean sighed, making a flourishing gesture with one hand as he bowed, oozing attitude. “But then you’d be taking _ another _shot at that demon guardian you asked for earlier.”

Castiel coughed up some smoke and took the cigarette out his mouth, eyes watering. “Come again?”

“I’d rather not, though maybe that’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”

Castiel was bemused and this time, it showed. With that one little admission, Dean opened up the proverbial Pandora’s box… and Castiel didn’t know where to start as one by one the implications zipped through his mind at lightning speed. He settled on a logical follow-up.

“I only met one demon guardian in my life so far. You’re supposed to be rare.”

Dean frowned at him. “Then you met one more than I ever have and I live among demons. It seems you,” he waved a reluctant hand at the bloody mess on his table, “… summoned me.”

Castiel stared down at his hand and frowned, remembering what he’d said to The Dentist. He couldn’t help himself. He laughed. Whatever this was, he hadn’t felt a lightness in his chest like this in a long time… The fact that Dean had brought a myriad of memories in his wake, which were among the most pleasant he’d gathered in recent memory, likely had to do with it. When he looked back at Dean, his expression was considerably more thunderous.

“Glad to see someone is enjoying this.”

Castiel felt a strong urge to find out more. “Please, sit down. Explain to me how this works. There must be rules, yes?”

“I would if I knew. Or not. The less you know, the better, right?” Dean made to tilt a coy shoulder at him, then seemed to think better of it. Castiel blinked for a second, feeling a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

“But, Dean, wait... We met as humans.”

“Human form,” he shrugged. His hand made another flourish, gesturing from his head to his toes.

“So you were a demon when we met?”

Dean looked away, his lips a tighter line. “Born and bred. Does it matter?”

“I fucked a demon. Oh, is that why you…”

For a split second, Castiel thought he caught a glimmer of a dark tail, but then Dean’s smile distracted him – it never quite reached those green eyes. “So you did,” he huffed. “Does it have any bearing on the situation?”

“Not really, I guess, but it’s worth mentioning. To strike off the bucket list.” Okay, so maybe he _ did _have a sense of humor in the face of world-shattering news – like: Here’s your discarded faith on your doorstep, demanding acknowledgement. Holy assbuttery on a skewer if that didn’t make his brain implode. It was one thing to know they existed, another to come across the occasional feather pillow during his job, and entirely another to have his personal demon guardian in his apartment in the form of Dean Winchester.

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but appeared to think better of it. “I only came here to meet. Officially, in guardian-charge capacity. So, Castiel Novak, lovely to meet you. I’ll see you… whenever.”

Castiel made a sound that stopped Dean from leaving and tapped into his patience, or perhaps his fatigue seeped through. Three nights was never enough to know someone, but he remembered a much softer version of Dean than this.

“Can you help with this, Dean?” Castiel lifted his butchered hand at him.

“My kind isn’t generally known for our healing abilities, Cas. You should have asked for an angel for that.”

Castiel sneered. “Fuck that. This is way better.”

A soft huff of breath left Dean. “You strike me as a very unbalanced individual.”

For a second, something flashed in Castiel’s blue eyes. “I am your… charge, was it? That isn’t so terrible. We got along quite well, those few nights.”

Dean turned, but Castiel caught the annoyed smirk. He knew he wasn’t lying.


	3. I'm No Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas smiled at him, turning the sturdy metal object over in his hand. “A phone?”
> 
> “What’s it look like? A hamburger? Yeah, a phone.”
> 
> “But I already have your number.”
> 
> Dean feigned deafness. That particular bit of information he’d kept to himself from both Heaven and Hell.

Dean took a few minutes to himself to observe from the darkness. Castiel was in the process of cleaning out a wound on his hand. Dirty boots on the mat. The vest with endless pockets and hidden compartments hung over a chair, visibly damp. His tie on the table next to a dismantled semi-automatic MP5. A backpack on one of the dinner table chairs. Cigarette smoke twirled up in slow, mesmerising curls. A glass of whiskey at hand. A gun as well. Castiel seemed paler than Dean remembered him. Despite proof of a recent shower, Castiel mainly looked exhausted. What the fuck did this guy do for a living?

Why this set-up annoyed the proverbial hell out of him, Dean didn’t know. They’d exchanged numbers with that undercurrent of not intending to ever call… which he hadn’t taken personally. There was something about how Cas had held himself that suggested he might understand what it meant to carry responsibilities.

As a demon who had not-quite-chosen to live a human life, he was also decidedly not supposed to go picking up humans in bars. Though in truth, he felt Cas had taken the initiative. Something pulsed in his chest as he observed his charge, this human who, only a week ago, almost had him uttering all sorts of obscenities in his native Infernal tongue. Generally also frowned upon in demon circles.

He was unsure what to expect. He was unsure he wanted to have any expectations at all. Scratch that. John had raised him not to have any, except the ones that rely on your own kin. With a roll of his shoulders, Dean shrugged off whatever peculiar sentiments he’d entertained and stepped forward, as silent as only demons could be.

Cas was taking a deep drag from his cigarette one second and the next, Dean looked down the barrel of a gun, which fucking _ fired_. With a barely audible hiss, he snatched the bullet out of the air, fast enough Castiel could not see it and tucked it in his jacket.

“Whoa, calm the hell down, Cas!” he snarled, stepping forward, palms out.

Castiel looked visibly confused as to why Dean wasn’t bleeding out on the floor. His aim had been perfect and if he’d been anything but a demon, he would have been. Dean stopped walking and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, keeping his face blank.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said.

Dean watched him tilt his head sideways, eyes narrowed and noted that the gun was still aiming at his chest. All in all, he was holding up quite well in the face of a situation that _ had _to be setting off alarms.

“Really? _ Hello, Dean? _ That’s what you’re going with?”

Cas’ fingers squeezed tighter around the gun. “I _ could _ just shoot you again for trespassing.”

Dean clenched his teeth, unsure if it was a threat or a joke. He tried to read his face and failed, something he wasn’t used to. Anger flared.

“You could try.” He used the tone of voice that tended to diminish your average human to a whimpering mess. Castiel looked unaffected and to drive the point home, Dean lifted his hand and let the bullet clink to the floor. The blue eyes followed it, registered and snapped back to Dean’s face, expression neutral. The only change was a minute raise of his eyebrows, as if to ask ‘And?’.

Mild frustration setting in, Dean sighed, making a flourishing gesture with one hand as he bowed, taking a cue from Sam and his ‘tude for days. “But then you’d be taking _ another _shot at that demon guardian you asked for last night.”

Castiel suffered a mild coughing fit and when he looked at Dean, his eyes watered. “Come again?”

Dean was unable to resist. “I’d rather not, though maybe that’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”

This time around he thought he saw some confusion in his face. It was hard not to think back, but he made valiant efforts to steer clear. If anything, he was curious how Cas would take it and he watched with interest as the gears in his head whirred, until he seemed to settle on something.

“I only met one demon guardian in my life so far. You’re supposed to be rare.”

Whatever he was, he seemed professional as fuck. “Then you met one more than I ever have and I live among demons. It seems you… summoned me.” Miffed, he waved a hand at the bloody cotton balls on the table.

Castiel’s eyes fell to his hand, a mild frown on his brow. The next second, his laughter filled the apartment, a sentiment Dean decided in this moment, he did _ not _ share. When Castiel looked back at him, he glared.

“Glad to see someone is enjoying this.”

“Please, sit down. Explain to me how this works. There must be rules, yes?”

“I would if I knew. Or not. The less you know, the better, right?” Dean heard the lilt in his tone that was anything but professional and reeled it back in, squaring his shoulders. He noted the curious twinkle in Castiel’s eyes and the upward turn of one corner of his mouth. Then a realisation settled in.

“But, Dean, wait... We met as humans.”

Dean shrugged. “Human form,” he said, waving another hand.

“So you were a demon when we met?”

The push bothered him. “Born and bred. Does it matter?”

“I fucked a demon. Oh, is that why you…”

Okay, forget professional. Dean _ felt _his form give way for the briefest second and cursed in silence, when he saw Cas’ head cock to the side as if he might have caught it. He clamped down on his self-control to maintain his form. A smile formed on his face, the kind that sent lesser creatures running. “So you did,” he said. “Does it have any bearing on the situation?”

“Not really, I guess, but it’s worth mentioning. To strike off the bucket list.”

Unprofessional was the word. Definitely the word. Dean opened his mouth to retort, but reconsidered. Best not to feed the flames. “I only came here to meet. Officially, in guardian-charge capacity. So, Castiel Novak, lovely to meet you. I’ll see you… whenever.”

He lifted one hand in semi-sarcastic greeting and made to turn away. A sound that kindled the unfamiliar glow in his chest stopped him from doing so. Mouth a thin line, Dean turned back minutely and waited, resting his eyes on Castiel.

After a few heartbeats of silence, Castiel spread his wounded hand at him in an almost child-like gesture. “Can you help with this, Dean?”

Dean sighed, actual regret that he couldn’t rising and instantly scoffed at the sentiment. “My kind isn’t generally known for our healing abilities, Cas. You should have asked for an angel for that.”

Castiel sneered. “Fuck that. This is way better.”

Dean huffed at the man. He hadn’t had clear expectations, but he also hadn’t expected _ this_. “You strike me as a very unbalanced individual.”

Castiel’s blue eyes flashed at him, the energy familiar, and his voice was soft when he spoke. “I am your… charge, was it? That isn’t so terrible. We got along quite well, those few nights.”

Days too, Dean thought, but he kept his face in check, as he turned away. Guardianship 101. Maybe they had some thoughts on how to deal with a charge, who clearly had no intention of pretending certain things didn’t happen between them.

* 

Dean knew his mouth hung open. He couldn’t help it. This was like college all over again, except he was surrounded by Feathers and sober. The blonde-haired woman next to him was staring at him, which made his skin crawl and he shot her a glare. Her blue eyes widened, whenever he caught her, and they were _ so _ not the right shade. 

His new supervisor stood at the front of this batch of about ten guardians, gesturing towards projected information. He was tall and slender, his face dominated by a nose like an eagle’s beak and piercing eyes. Despite his best efforts, Dean enjoyed the deep voice with which he spoke, even if it was spouting nonsense.

“It’s important to safeguard your charge’s free will. You are their guardian, not their dictator.”

“Too bad,” Dean muttered, earning another glance from blondie-blue-eyes next to him. 

He was bullheadedly ignoring just _ who _ his charge was for the time being and the memory of visiting Cas in his apartment. There’d be plenty of time to deal with that, the same way he dealt with anything. Attitude and booze. Or maybe digging his hands into the dirt in the garden with Charlie. Or eating inordinate amounts of pie. He’d discovered he quite liked that part of a semi-human life.

“God gave them free will for a reason.”

“Did he really?” Dean blurted out. As a fate demon, free will was an abstract concept.

Raziel’s dark eyes zoned in on him with alarming speed and intensity. The silence lasted a few heartbeats too many to Dean’s liking, but the answer surprised him. 

“There is some debate on the matter, both here and out there.” He gave a gentle suggestive shrug towards Humanity outside with his left wing, the primary feathers quivering. Dean’s eyes lingered on the gesture. “For the etiquette of this particular position, however, we prioritise free will and leave the ethical debate to the philosophers.”

“But…” the blonde next to him started to protest.

The speed with which Raziel lifted a hand to shut her up provoked a chuckle from Dean. “This is not a philosophy class, Naomi. You are most welcome to join those classes on Tuesdays.”

“Is that where people go to die a slow and agonising death?” A mild look found Dean and he jutted his chin out, knowing he should have kept his mouth shut.

“We’re aware you’re out of your element, Dean,” Raziel said, surprising Dean once more. “It’ll take some time to adapt, but at least in this setting, could you do so in silence? I’m willing to entertain your… thoughts once we’re done.”

The smirk on Naomi’s face made him snap his mouth shut and rest his cheek on his hand, leaning forward on the desk, pretending for all the world he had zero fucks to give. He resisted the urge to text his siblings, though judging by the vibrations in his back pocket, _ they _ hadn’t. He tuned out most of the rest of his Guardianship 101 class, too engrossed with the state of his life and the consequences for his family. He’d have to divide his time between the fates of humans and demons alike, the tactics that came with being a patriarch against the legion of The Adversary _ and _one human’s earthly needs.

“One last matter to be sorted and you’re free to go. You’ll all be given a cell phone for your charge, special edition, goes without saying,” Raziel smiled, drawing Dean’s attention back. “To be handed over within the next 12 hours. Please come up, find your charge’s name on the list and sign for it.”

“Wait,” Dean put up his hand. “Does this mean I don’t need to be with this guy 24/7?”

Naomi huffed and rolled her eyes. “Good God, have you even been listening?”

“Not really, no. I was too busy wondering how the fuck I ended up here with you feathery douchebags. I’m sure you’ve got nothing else to do but inflate your ego by serving some random human, but I happen to…” 

Raziel snapped his fingers and some of the air seemed to go out of the room. Dean’s tongue went numb. Shit. He hadn’t been around angels this close before, except in battle and even that had been a while since The Adversary. He knew what they were capable of, but he couldn’t read the situation well enough under this peculiar veneer of civilization.

“Class dismissed. Everyone grab a phone on your way out. All material will be available online. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate. Dean, with me.”

How did he get to the cusp of middle-age to be addressed that way?

“Look, sir,” Dean grimaced at his automatic slip into Good Soldier Boy, as he folded his hands behind him and straightened up. “I know I’m not cooperating much.”

Raziel’s thin eyebrows rose, screaming ‘You don’t say?’ at him.

“I’ve got a lot on my plate, okay? This was the last thing…”

“You needed, I am aware,” Raziel offered, when Dean hesitated.

Dean pursed his lips. “_Expected_. Blind-sided. It’s not exactly common lore on our end of the spectrum.”

Raziel nodded. “Perhaps it should be, but I see why it would not be. A lot on your plate.. You mean your father?”

He almost balked at the intrusion. The response came from the only core he’d known from a young age on: anger. “Sir, we might all be fighting The Adversary, that doesn’t mean we’re going to be best buds. My dad is off limits. In fact, my whole family is off limits.”

“Noted. Then regardless of your private issues, I highly recommend you step up. Most of what I’ve heard about you, as head of the Winchester family, was…” Raziel hesitated and Dean eyed the man with interest, “… efficient, if somewhat unorthodox to our tastes. We are aware you keep a lot close to your chest as well.”

Dean pricked his index fingers at himself. “Demon. It’s what we do best.” 

“Hmm, indeed. Please bring _ your _ best to this guardianship.”

A breath of hesitation and he leaned towards Raziel, arms open. “What are you talking about? I’m a joy to be around.”

Raziel’s stern demeanour melted for a few seconds, as Dean elicited a chuckle from him. He was sure he could have landed worse in terms of supervisor. Still. “So can I go now?”

“Yes. At your disposal if you need help.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage. Keep Cas from harm, make the most of life and don’t let the world end. Right?”

Raziel narrowed his eyes at him, as he handed the phone over. “Quite.”

Dean grinned a wide smile at the angel and left, fiddling with _ his charge’_s phone in his pocket.

* 

They were in Castiel’s apartment, which was its usual clean self. One packed duffel bag and backpack sat on the three-seater. Dean leaned backwards, his arms on the kitchen counter.

Cas smiled at him, turning the sturdy metal object over in his hand. “A phone?”

“What’s it look like? A hamburger? Yeah, a phone.”

“But I already have your number.”

Dean feigned deafness. That particular bit of information he’d kept to himself from both Heaven and Hell.

“More procedure?” Cas ventured a guess.

“Yeah. Exactly. Each charge shall be presented with their own phone to be able to communicate with their guardian,” he said, imitating Raziel. The accuracy of said imitation was understandably lost on his audience.

“How’s the connection on this thing?” Castiel fiddled with the Wi-Fi settings.

Dean gave him a thumb’s up. “Perfect at all times.”

“This is amazing. It has Heaven and Hell’s network on it?”

“Umm… not really. What’s in a name, right? These are our local … _ human _networks. We lost Hell...” 

“You had Wi-Fi in Hell?”

Dean trailed off, unsure what exactly Castiel knew. A fair part of the human population had chosen ignorance over discomfort and had their knowledge parameters adapted, after The Adversary’s Coup. They were the ones who stubbornly denied all kinds of obvious, like climate change and the existence of the supernatural. Of course there were angel and demon units on either side who ensured that remained so.

Castiel squinted at him. “Oh, right, The Adversary.”

Dean squinted right back. “_Oh, right, The Adversary? _”

Castiel shrugged, a delicate gesture for one his size, which oddly reminded Dean of Raziel’s one-winged motion. “It’s a mess everywhere, isn’t it? I hunt assholes for a living. You deal with the armies of hell, I assume. Still impressive that among all that chaos, I now have a heaven and hell network on a supernatural phone.”

“We’re nothing if not resilient,” Dean admitted.

Castiel nodded, a hummed smile shot at Dean, as if he understood what Dean might mean. Granted, the man was a bounty hunter, a new piece of intel the current situation had bestowed on him.

“Dude, you never told me you were a bounty hunter!”

Castiel’s lips curved into a soft smirk. “You never told me you were a demon.”

The twinkle in Castiel’s eyes catapulted Dean back to those few days, which he’d meant to be just a one-night-stand. They’d talked about anything but jobs, which Dean remembered neither of them were keen on at the time. It had been one of those ‘Make me forget about the world’ cocoons, carved out of time and space, dappled with stars. So many stars. His heart lurched.

“And don’t call me dude, please.”

Dean blinked, returning to the present. “Why not?”

The glare Cas shot him made Dean recoil, its contrast with his own day-dreaming stark. “Du… I mean, okay, I won’t. Jeez.”

“You use the Lord’s son’s name in vain?”

“Don’t we all.” Dean frowned at him. “You religious?”

Castiel barked a loud laugh and shook his head. He put the phone away in the breast pocket of his vest, buttoning it. “I asked for a demon guardian. What do you think?”

“Your people skills are rusty, is what I think.”

Another chuckle, the sound of which made Dean smile. He rolled his eyes at himself and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Says the one who calls me dude. I prefer Cas.”

“Dude is a perfectly okay thing to say to… y’know, dudes.” He almost stuttered over his words. “You’re unusually chirpy about all this.”

“I am?” Castiel wondered. “I suppose I might be. It’s livening up things on my end.”

“Du…” Dean began. Another withering look. Dean grimaced. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Castiel shook his head. “I hunt people for a living, Dean, of course I am ‘rusty’,” he said, putting air-quotes around the word. “Speaking of, I need to leave.”

For a second, Dean hesitated to ask for more information or, dreadful, if Cas needed help. Instead, he nodded and turned on his heels. “Awesome. Won’t keep you from making the world a better place.”

“I could use some help with that.”

Dean’s tail flickered into reality for a second at the tone Cas’ voice took on. Something in his chest reached out to Cas. Annoyed, he ordered it back in line.

“Really, Cas? I can barely manage my own shit, let alone someone else’s.” 

He looked back at Cas and was sure he caught those blue eyes lingering on his ass, before snapping back to his face, all wide-eyed innocence. 

“Yes, really, Dean,” Castiel nodded. “Gabriel w… isn’t available.”

Dean connected the dots between information from their three-day-stand and what Ash had provided him with. “Wait, your brother works with you?”

Castiel frowned for a second. “Right, I told you about him.”

“Yeah. I had no idea he was a bounty hunter as well.”

“It’s a family thing.”

“So you left the family, but not the business?”

Cas’ eyes went to the bags in the couch, a sadness replacing the openness. It lasted only briefly, before a hard resolve reshaped his features to stone and he made to walk towards the couch. “In the blood, I guess. So can we? I’m on a schedule here.”

“And you think I’m not?” Dean snapped.

Castiel halted, unexpectedly close, and Dean resisted the urge to step back as they stood eye to eye. He leaned closer, searching Dean’s face intently. “What am I keeping you from?”

“My job.” Dean hesitated, as he leaned back. “My family.”

Cas’ eyes did a trick, but he could not read whether it was at the mention of family or job. With a sudden move, Castiel picked up the backpack and when he made to lift the duffel, Dean beat him to it. Wordlessly, he studied Dean’s face as if he was counting his freckles, which made his skin tingle. Dean lowered his eyes, biting his lip, and muttered something about getting a move on. The clinking sound of Cas’ keys followed and they were out of the apartment.

They put the bags in the trunk of Cas’ Jeep in silence.

“Go to your family, Dean. I got this.”

Without giving Dean the time to react, Castiel got in the Jeep and drove away. Dean stood on the sidewalk outside his apartment a while longer, debating whether he should bamf into the vehicle. It’d likely scare the living daylights out of Cas.

He smirked at the thought, then his face fell and mild confusion set in. 

Home to his family, then.


	4. And I'm Not Made of Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, uhm… I… I shouldn’t have left.”
> 
> “You didn’t leave, I told you to go home. I was fine. I am fine.”
> 
> Dean scoffed. “I use those words on the daily, Cas, I know what they mean.”
> 
> “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dinner at the Winchester house was rarely a quiet event. Tonight was more animated than usual, for which Dean felt his siblings were to blame. Yet _ he _ was the one being criticised.

“What do you mean, you refused?!” Sam snapped.

“I didn’t fucking refuse,” Dean protested. “He… dismissed me.” That had been a new feeling.

“He has the right to do so,” Ash pointed out. “He calls the shots.”

Dean squinted at that, but he wasn’t going to point out just _ why _ he knew Cas often called the shots.

“Because you were being a brat about being away from us.”

“I’m second-guessing that now. Y’all are just giving me a hard time, because you found out about Cas. You had no right…”

Charlie flicked her hair to the side. “To know who you’ve been having a three-night-stand with? I think we do…”

“You scried for it, Charlie! We’re not even supposed to be looking at the past.” He turned to his sister, hands at his hips.

“I can explain!” Her hands shot forward, palms out in defence. “We’re guests here, remember? Outsiders. _ Demons_. We needed to know this wasn’t some stunt to get back at us.”

“It might explain why you showed up as his guardian,” Ash smiled, but Dean noticed a glint of a warning in his eyes. 

“I was curious and Sam said it was good practice. The past is easier, because it’s fixed.”

“True, it was a balanced experiment.”

“Bite me, both of you.”

“It seems Cas beat us to it.”

Dean glared. “Again, none of your fucking business. And his name is _ Castiel. _Is nothing holy anymore?”

His siblings exchanged a look at that and snickered. “Down below? Not really,” Charlie smiled.

“And humanity is a bit of a stretch as well,” Ash added. “Mind, that’ll do though in terms of details. It’s soon dinnertime. Good thing Bobby isn’t here.”

They grimaced and the discussion was interrupted by their phone ringing. “Speak of the devil.” Ash left the bickering siblings, answering the call.

“Is there a point to this harassment or can I get on with my cooking? Someone has to feed this household. And I have a late shift.”

“No, you don’t,” Sam scoffed. “You’re sacrificing every ounce of free time you have. Which is ironic, seeing as you used us as an excuse to get out of helping Castiel.”

“And you’re not supposed to,” Charlie added. “You’re his guardian. It’s like bailing… It’s like bailing on us.”

“You know what,” Dean grunted, slamming the knife down on the counter. “I have about had it with this. Everyone’s begging for a piece of me – don’t you dare take that opening, Charlie, don’t even _ think _it – and I’d like the world to stop being a mess. I’d like for everyone to just go back to being… what we were before, I’d like for The Adversary to evaporate in a giant cloud of dust and I’d like… actually, I’m not sure if I want Dad to come back, but I’d sure as fuck want Mom back from the dead. You two can cut me some slack here. How does that sound?”

Charlie hugged him. 

“This is an inappropriate and convincing mechanism. Get off me,” Dean said. It took him all of a heartbeat before he put his arms around her.

“We know, okay,” she said into his chest. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “We know it sucks balls, all of it. Nothing went right after Mom died. And I’m sorry we suck at what we have to do. We were better at wrath.”

“We don’t suck, alright,” he grunted. “_ He _ just bailed.” Dean hadn’t meant to say it in that tone and regretted it the instant he saw Sam’s face scrunch up, ready for a head-on collision. “Which doesn’t matter. I mean, we _ were _better at wrath. It’s just weird to run the Winchester show with a few less hands on deck. And this thing with Cas… it’s just…”

He disengaged from the hug and waved a hand, unable to finish his sentence. “_This _ just sucks. Mom should be here. And if she were here, we’d have a semi-normal Dad. And if The Adversary wasn’t such a dick, we’d still be in Hell, not having to pretend to be human.”

Sam made a face and shrugged, that massive one-shouldered shrug he gave whenever he didn’t believe Dean.

“What?”

“I don’t mind it, Dean, and neither do you, when I see you running this household in the most human way possible...”

He balked at the thought and responded on instinct, on what he knew John would want to hear. “If I got the chance to go back, I would. In a heartbeat.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, sure, sure.”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“Make me.”

With a groan, Dean turned around and got back to chopping the bell peppers. Home-made burgers. They’d never really bothered back in Hell and in that respect, Sam wasn’t wrong. A kitchen was quite something to have at one’s disposal.

“So have you heard from him since you left him to potentially die?”

“Oh, fuck-shit-balls on a Knight of Hell,” Dean cursed vehemently. “What do I have to say to get you two off my case?”

“You could feed us.”

“I’m trying!”

“Or you could say you’ll go check in on Castiel. I’ve seen you eye that guardian phone.”

“If I say yes, will you two back down and I dunno, go scry up on Ash or Bobby?”

“I would advise against it,” Ash said when they returned. “Bobby’s on his way to join us for dinner. Are you done bickering?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” Charlie exclaimed, eyes wide, a mock-dainty hand to her chest.

Sam just shook his head. “Yeah, I think we are. And remember, she can tell when you’re lying.”

No, she actually can’t, Dean thought. “Fine. I’ll feed you and then I’ll check in on Cas.”

Charlie squeed, squeezing happy hands together. “_ Cas _. I love it.”

Ash leaned closer, their voice low enough his siblings couldn’t hear. “I will assume you are going there in your capacity as guardian, not as… whatever else you were.”

Dean didn’t look at them and nodded, a painful knot in his chest area, where that glow pulsed steadily.

* 

Castiel maintained radio silence after that first denied request for help. Some guardian. 

Granted, Dean had not outright refused to join, but the mention of a family waiting at home made him reconsider. He liked to think there were few things that caught him off guard, but it would be an exceptional level of self-denial if he wasn’t aware of the festering sore spot that was his family. Gabriel had been called back to the family for who knew how long, but not before he’d made such a fuss about leaving Castiel alone that he physically lifted his brother into a hug just to shut him up. Gabriel had left, surprisingly meek, after that.

As a result, he was alone. Aside from his bounty hunting and the trivial contacts when delivering said bounties, there was no one.

He mucked through his dirty stuff from the past week and set about the grounding task of household chores in the silence of the apartment. There was some stray noise from down below, but he had learned to tune it out. It was another warm day and the windows were open. On the 8th floor, he had a view of the city and little reason to look anywhere but the horizon. The world distracted him more than usual today, as if the color of faded jeans reminded him of something beyond his grasp and forgotten memories. Or maybe, just maybe, he needed to get out. Go read a book in the park. Feed the rats with wings, for lack of anything else to feed besides himself.

Castiel hated admitting it and he made sure never to do so out loud to anyone, least of all to Gabriel, but he loathed being alone. As much as he knew he was better off away from the family and the business, his loneliness had gathered into The Empty inside him. Somehow he hadn’t managed to make new connections. He had a feeling he didn’t know how.

His supernatural phone buzzed, cutting off the train of thought that usually led nowhere but to the drinking cabinet. He stared at the name blinking on the screen for a while, then slid the green button.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas.” 

Castiel had difficulty figuring out the tone of Dean’s voice, as much as he enjoyed hearing him speak his nickname. Something intense seemed to be going on most of the time, but perhaps that was not unusual for a demon. The silence became noticeable and they stumbled over one another next.

“I’ve been busy…”

“I wanted to check in sooner…”

Dean chuckled, as Castiel fell silent. “Cas, I.. How did the hunt go?”

“There were a few more than expected, but nothing I could not handle.”

“Okay.”

Silence once more.

"How's... Your hand not give you too much trouble?"

"I'm ambidexterous."

Despite the quick dismissal, Dean's question provoked an exhale of wonder.

Another silence and Castiel wondered why it didn't feel awkward.

"Look, uhm… I… I shouldn’t have left.”

“You didn’t leave, I told you to go home. I was fine. I _ am _ fine.”

Dean scoffed. “I use those words on the daily, Cas, I know what they mean.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Look, this whole guardianship thing…”

“Yes?”

“It’s strange. A demon among angel ranks, I know I’m not welcome. It feels like I’m hunted, like I’m rebelling against the natural order. For you.”

“I believe that too. Dean, I know how important family is. I will not keep you from them for my measly needs.”

He could almost hear the annoyance coming through the phone and arched an eyebrow at it. “They are _ not _ measly needs.”

“Family trumps bounties.”

“I’d agree with you there, but it’s my responsibility now.”

The coinciding of a horn honking outside and the delay of the same horn-sound over the phone drew Castiel from his laundry to the small deck. He looked over the wrought-iron railing and glanced down. In front of his apartment building, even at this height, he recognised Dean. The leather jacket. Red plaid shirt. Bow legs. Leaning against the shiny black finish of his Impala.

A flutter in his gut. An unfamiliar warmth in his chest. He smiled as he leaned on the railing. “Would you like to come up?”

Dean’s face turned to look up and he heard his breath catch. “Oh, shit. I mean… I was…”

Castiel frowned. “Why did you come here, Dean?”

“To check on you. And to escape Sam and Charlie.”

“What did they do?”

“They were just being assholes, as siblings do.”

Castiel let out a loud exhale. “That’s the truth.”

“Oh, that sounded heartfelt.”

“I have quite a few siblings.”

“Besides Gabriel, you mean?”

“Yes. All of them are assholes. Including Gabriel.”

Dean laughed and Castiel basked in the effect. 

“You seem to be handling them okay though,” Castiel offered.

“My siblings?”

“All of it, as far as I can tell. You mentioned the job. I imagine this guardianship is another plate you’re spinning.”

“Are you kidding me? I had no say in it. Not you, not the family business.”

Castiel frowned at the tiny version of Dean on the curb. “You don’t filter your words very well, do you?”

“I… No, I don’t. Because I don’t see the point. It depends.”

“Was this part of the reason for the sibling harassment that chased you to my doorstep?”

“They harassed me. You make me sound like a stray.”

“Well…”

“I am not a stray.”

“You’re too well-kempt for that. But admit, it is a bit peculiar to be on the phone when we’re an elevator ride apart.”

A few heartbeats of silence as they looked at each other over the distance of eight stories. He saw Dean poke a thumb over his shoulder. “Yeah. I just… Do you wanna go grab some dinner? I fed them, but then bailed. Fresh made burgers, go figure.”

The offer confused him to the extent Castiel almost dropped the phone. By the time he’d prevented the thing from keeling over the side and potentially killing Dean, he’d made enough of a cursing racket to find Dean laughing on the other end. “Du… What did you just do?”

“Nothing. I … The phone slipped.”

“Okay. So what do you say? Maybe we can go over this guardianship thing of ours.”

He peered down, unable to stop smiling. “Or anything else. I can eat.”

Castiel thought he saw a subtle victorious fist at that, but couldn’t tell for sure when it landed on the back of Dean’s head, scratching. “I’ll be right down.”

“Awesome.” The smile in Dean’s voice was warmer than Castiel had gotten used to since this guardianship started.


	5. Right or Wrong, I Can Hardly Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gunshot went off and Dean winced. Castiel squeezed down harder on his jacket, giving him a small shake. “Dean, move! Don’t let them shoot you.”
> 
> “It won’t do much harm.”
> 
> Another shot, another wince.
> 
> “Not much… Dean!” Castiel tried to shove him. He realized Dean must’ve allowed him to do so back then, because his body did not give an inch. A beautiful grin split the demonic face.
> 
> “You’re just a baby in a trenchcoat, aren’t you?”
> 
> “And you’re all sugar and spice underneath that demonic façade. Now let me do my job.”

Watching Cas in professional action was in a league of its own. Dean stuck close to him. Bounties were, almost by definition, individuals, Cas had explained, but that didn’t mean they were alone at all times.

Their boots sounded wet on the stones, as he followed behind Castiel and they squeezed through yet another narrow gap between walls. They both moved with a stealth that was part nature, part nurture. Silence would have been better, Dean knew, but since getting in the car and picking up the scent, it seemed they were unable to not talk at regular intervals, as if needing to ensure the other’s continued presence. Ever since the spontaneous, if somewhat awkward burger joint dinner, he’d felt less on edge. Whether his presence was an added value, Dean wasn’t sure. He was however sure he did not appreciate the moist glint on the wall he was squeezing through.

Hell had been more sanitary.

“Do they always find the narrowest, nastiest nooks and crannies of the city’s underground to hide in?”

A ghost of a crooked smile on Castiel’s face. “Not a city creature?”

“Not one fuckin’ bit,” Dean bristled. “Nah, man, there’s a reason we decided to live in Lawrence. The hour drive to Kansas City is a small sacrifice. Are you?”

Castiel squinted at the darkness. “My job makes me a creature of many terrains.”

“Nicely dodged.”

“Thank you. We?”

“We what?”

“You said ‘we’ when you said you decided to live away from the city. I take it that was you and your family?”

“My siblings,” he said, tone clipped. 

Cas’ obvious interest in his family sometimes made him wonder, without always knowing why. Castiel was a regular ol’ human, one of many in Kansas City, not someone who’d be able to do anything with the info. Yet some habits were hard to shake. John had made sure of that.

“Sammy.” Dean heard the smile in Cas’ voice and felt a peculiar lifting of his heart. Sam hated the diminutive of his name, even more so on the lips of strangers. Still, it didn’t sound wrong from Castiel’s. 

“And Charlie.”

“Another brother?”

He shook his head, then realized Cas might not be able to see in the dark of night. “Adopted sister.” 

This time, Castiel turned towards him. “Demons adopt?”

Dean scoffed. “We run surprisingly normal lives. Among the mayhem and death and virgin sacrifices.”

Castiel shot him an odd look. “Well, yes, you moved to Earth. I imagine some things changed since you had to leave Hell.”

“Before that as well. I mean, it’s mainly practicalities and faking it till we make it down here.”

“Like most humans, that.”

“Other than that, our family dynamics are similar.”

The warmth of Castiel’s free hand closed over his lower arm, seeping through his jacket, which may or may not have been wishful thinking. He felt the warning squeeze, as Cas put a finger to his lips and took the safety off his gun. They discussed weapons in the car, Dean refusing to carry one, much to Castiel’s dismay, despite demonic reassurances he didn’t need one.

Cas gestured with two fingers ahead and Dean heard the soft noise of a fire crackling, though even he couldn’t see any light. It was so faint, Dean wondered how Cas’ human ears were able to pick up on it. He stepped ahead of Cas, hearing the barely contained sound of protest behind him and an urgent, angry whisper floated over his shoulder as Cas caught up. 

“I’m the one with the guns here. Back up.”

“I’m the guardian here. Back off.”

A hand like a vice clamped down over his upper arm and muscle memory kicked in. Dean turned his face towards Cas, the scent of him overpowering the unpleasantness around them. That glow in his chest reached out. _ Focus_. He clasped his hand over Cas’ and squeezed back. The gesture became a touch intimate, when they stood in stalemate for a moment, eyes locked, until Dean lost patience. 

“This is taking too long, Cas. How can you even stand taking so long to get shit done?”

*

“_Dean_. Hey. HEY,” Castiel hissed louder, when Dean vanished from sight. Turned fucking fully invisible, it seemed. A low chuckle that drifted upwards made him huff and clamp down harder on his weapon, as he walked on, following the sounds. “I thought you were supposed to obey me,” he muttered.

Castiel kept to the shadows. Dean was nowhere to be seen and Castiel wondered if he’d actually left. How binding could a guardian contract be? They were supernatural beings. Who was going to care if he ‘lost his charge’? Phones be damned, there had to be a better way of keeping in touch with one’s guardian. And he had to take a closer look at the laws involved. Castiel clenched his teeth and made sure the MP5 was snug against his shoulder and in his hands. Tight, but loose. Firm, but gentle. His trigger finger rested against the guard.

He turned a corner, which lead to a hall, scattered with the light of the fire in the room ahead. Back pressed against the wall, he peeked around the corner. What had sounded like three people turned out to be more. Three of them by the fire, his charge, another man and a woman. A third man stood guard. He focused on the patches of black around them, in search of a glint of light in an eye or a lit cigarette.

_ There_, he thought, when he spotted a fifth one, though he could not make out much detail. From the looks of them, all five of them were on someone’s to-do list. His charge was sitting by the fire, looking nervous, despite being surrounded by his back-up. Castiel’s eyes were drawn up to a breach in the far wall above them, which accessed the floor above. He could swear he saw a sliver of light bounce off of a leathery wing and silenced the curse that threatened to betray him. A wave of adrenaline rose up from his gut.

“I saw movement up there!”

Castiel clenched his teeth together, shifted his finger to the trigger and stepped out of the darkness. A touch of exhilaration snuck into his voice. “Bounty hunter ambush. Hold your positions. I only need one of you and my colleagues have eyes on you.”

Five sets of weaponry were aimed, two up at the darkness, three at Castiel. His senses zoned in on every detail: eyes, sweat, trembling, anything that would make the difference between beating them to the punch, in case one of them decided to take the damn shot.

“You said this place was secure.”

Dean’s voice danced down into the firelight, deeper than before. “Dude, you’re holed up in a giant underground building with crumbling walls and a hole in its surface. Secure is a far cry from this.”

Something about the one in the shadows irked Castiel. “You! Step forward.”

When they obliged, an average looking woman appeared, whose face and countenance rang no bells, but she carried herself in a way that was threatening. A shiver ran down his spine, when she smirked and he saw her lips move.

The sound of fluttering wings arrived a split second before their owner did. 

“Dean! Guardian!” Castiel yelled, at the same time he heard Dean’s cursing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

A figure appeared in the middle, wings splayed out against the fire light, their presence creating a temporary vacuum in reality and gravity seemed to shift. Castiel came to an involuntary halt and felt a force dig into the center of his chest, like an aggressive invisible fist that held him in place by squeezing his heart.

“Dean,” he muttered. Someone hushed him.

Her companions clearly had no idea she had a guardian. One of them attempted to bail, but suffered the same spell Castiel was under.

“Petty squabbles,” the angel said. “What do you need?”

“We need to escape,” the woman said. “A bounty hunter found us.”

“May I remind you that I am _ your _ guardian, not your… acquaintances?”

She sighed. “I am aware. Still, I am fond of these.”

Visibly annoyed, the angel shook his head. “I will get you out, as usual. Stop trying to…” He stopped talking and looked at the upper floor. “We are not alone.”

“No, he mentioned colleagues,” the woman said, pricking a finger at Castiel.

Castiel felt exposed when the angel’s eyes travelled to him. What he’d expected he didn’t know, but he always felt this way under the gaze of the feathers. It was the most obvious reason why he didn’t like them. 

Something was different, it seemed, when the angel went from cool disinterest to wide-eyed anger. The same second, Dean jumped from the top floor. Castiel stared at his demon-form, wings out. His burgundy skin glowed in the light of the fire. The angel lost control over his captives as he turned towards the demonic presence, wings beating and kicking up dust. Dean grinned when he landed and bowled him over. White wings sprang forth in an attempt to dodge.

Castiel zoned in on his fellow humans, took out the woman by the fire and took a shot at the man’s leg, before he had to take cover. The sound of bullets flying past and over his head sent every nerve singing. He barely registered himself cursing and patted himself down for a smoke grenade. He sent it flying, heard the charming thud-pssssh sound as it activated. More cursing and he chuckled, as he pulled his mask over his face and crouched low back into the din. Dean had ensured him he was rather immune to smoke grenades.

Patches of human-sized shadow were visible and even in this chaos, he could discern between the angel and demon in the midst of it. There was power at the center of their conflict, one that vibrated through its surroundings and shook him to his core. He speed-crouched his way to where the woman had been, whose guardian he hoped to distract if he took her out. She beat him to it and appeared from his left, a hand gun aimed at his head. Castiel ducked, heard the gunshot go off, and elbowed her in the nose before she could squeeze off another. His ears rang violently.

Her pained scream drew a flutter of wings. Castiel went oomph when something landed on his back, knocking him prone, an icy pain piercing through him, but only for the briefest of seconds, before it was forcibly removed from him. 

“Back off!” 

Castiel pushed himself up, glancing around. Through the smoke and the limited vision of his mask, he made out Dean standing in front of him, wings flaring, in an attempt to hold the angel at bay. It was unnecessary, because in the next second, under the woman’s angry protests, the angel and her charge bamfed out. One word, spoken with disgust, lingered. “_Winchesters_.”

Dean crouched low and close to Castiel, his wings furling around them, as he grabbed for Castiel’s vest and pulled the mask off. In an entirely unprofessional move, Castiel allowed himself to gape at Dean and he returned the grabby gesture. They held on, as if to ground themselves. His chest pounded and wanted him to lean in, closer… _ closer _ to Dean.

“Cas, you okay?”

“I’m fine. Are you? This... You're amazing.” 

Dean chuckled and gave him a kind slap to his cheek. Castiel focused his attention on Dean’s face. Even in his demon form, he had freckles. A pair of twisting horns adorned his skull and he very much wished he could study them closer. The shine in his eyes felt all too familiar. 

“I’m _ fine_, Dean. Where did they go?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. Where’s your charge?”

“He _ was _ by the fire.”

A gunshot went off and Dean winced. Castiel squeezed down harder on his jacket, giving him a small shake. “Dean, move! Don’t let them shoot you.”

“It won’t do much harm.”

Another shot, another wince.

“Not _ much _ … Dean!” Castiel tried to shove him. He realized Dean must’ve allowed him to do so _ back then_, because his body did not give an inch. A beautiful grin split the demonic face.

“You’re just a baby in a trenchcoat, aren’t you?”

“And you’re all sugar and spice underneath that demonic façade. Now let me do my job.”

Dean looked shocked and in seeming obedience lowered his wings, cutting lines through the slowly dissipating smoke, as Castiel rose from his crouched position, taking focused aim. It was the sentry who had stood guard. He got one shot in, which grazed Castiel’s arm. Grim, Castiel took a shot at the sentry’s shoulder first, then the leg and he went down. With some help from Dean’s wings, the smoke was reduced to curls of mist low to the ground. By the fire, the woman he’d taken out earlier groaned.

“Where is he?” he snapped.

“Allow me.” Dean bamfed away, in much the same way the angel had, except it _ sounded _ different. A distance away, Castiel heard a mild squeal, a louder thud and the next second, Dean was back, grinning from ear to ear, his claws clamped down on Castiel’s actual charge. The man was shaking and sank to his knees. The sound of muffled protests of his charge settled along with the dust of the scene. 

What a mess, Castiel sighed, looking around. There would be hell to pay for the collateral damage on this one. 

Castiel heard the unique sound of leathery wings being tucked and hurried to get one more look, but Dean had returned to his human form. He did his best to hide his disappointment. 

Turning his arm, he looked for the wound. It was in fact not a graze, but a through-and-through. “We both coast by on the lucky side of bad luck, it seems,” he said.

“Because it’s just a flesh wound? Or because we’re still alive?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I’d count that as lucky, Cas. You got shot. And one of them had a guardian.”

“Which is a problem…?”

“An angel makes the opposition harder to deal with. I don’t mind flying in, but it changes the field if others like me are on it.”

“I suppose so… You register as invincible in my mind.”

“Keep thinking that.”

“Did they get you?”

“Nah, regular old bullets. They sting a bit, that’s it.”

“_Invincible_.”

A crooked smile. “Depends on the competition.” 

“Perhaps. That’s the second one in two months with a guardian.”

“Unusual?”

“Maybe,” Castiel nodded. “I don’t know, Dean.”

“Maybe the word is spreading about the demon guardian,” Dean winked. “They wanna get a look in.”

“They knew already though, didn’t they? You said you went to Guardianship 101 with the angels.”

“True. I have no idea, Cas, and frankly I don’t care. This was the one you needed and we got him. What do we do with the others?”

“I have to call it in. They’ll get picked up and be given the chance to sue.”

As he said it, he dialed in to his network and 911. Dean helped him lift his charge to his feet. Castiel sat through a brief barrage of questions, the promise of further investigation and heaved a sigh when he hung up. 

In the returned quiet, his heart seemed to be loudest thing around. Castiel tried to focus and _ not _call back the sight of a demon-Dean spreading his wings and jumping into the fray. The blueprint of his human form shaped his demon form… or the other way around. Castiel had no idea and his brain wasn’t doing him any favors. He was good with chaos, on average, but apparently a demon’s chaotic energy was another brand altogether. He found he didn’t mind it.

“Why do you do this, Cas?”

The question caught him off guard and he looked past the messy head of their captive. “Do what?”

“All this. Why bother? With your skill set I’m sure you could get cushier jobs. Less danger, more perks.”

A peculiar warmth spread in his chest, which Castiel tried to crush immediately. “Is that my guardian speaking?”

“It’s me speaking, you jackass. Stop dodging.”

“Jackass yourself. Go back to your demon form and maybe I’ll tell you.” 

Had he accused Dean of not having a filter? 

Dean’s green eyes widened. “Excuse me?” 

When they lifted their charge, he started struggling against them. Castiel watched Dean’s hand clamp down around one of the man’s ears, the threat of it being ripped off clear. A muffled squeak and he stopped, staring up at the two men hovering above him. What a sight it must be, Castiel mused, as he held Dean’s eyes, hell-bent on not looking away. A myriad of emotions flitted over Dean’s features and it surprised him to catch quite a few, before a clenching of Dean’s jaw set him back to marble. Surprise. Suspicion. Curiosity.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean eventually replied, breaking eye contact and lifting the guy into the van. “You. Behave or I’ll fucking barbeque you in the pits of Hell. Got it?”

The man nodded with vigour.

“Dean… You might want to vanish when they get here.”

They slammed the back doors shut, securing the lock. Castiel went to both wounded, sat them upright, tied off their wounds sufficiently to avoid being sued. The third man had escaped. After a good ten minutes both of them were sat next to each other and bound, just about when the emergency unit arrived. Castiel sat through another line of questioning, acutely aware of Dean, who was leaning against the back of the van, legs and arms crossed, invisible to anyone but himself. He observed Cas with intent.

They double-checked and made note of the first aid Castiel had provided, before loading them up and driving off. Castiel scratched the back of his head, briefly contemplating a smoke, before he turned to Dean.

“Why not? The demon form, I mean,” Castiel asked, surprising himself. 

Dean shot him a confused frown. They got in the van and it lurched forward, the GPS set for the nearest bounty hunter agency.

“Simple, isn’t it? We’re not supposed to be strutting around in demon form on this plane of existence. It’s one of many rules we got stuck with after humanity let us take refuge here.”

“We’re good at that. But you showed yourself while we were in combat.” 

Dean tried to hide the smile behind his hand and it took Castiel less than a heartbeat to catch on.

“You did it…what? To just scare the shit out of them? You’re enjoying this?”

“Oh, I am.” Dean put his hands behind his head and stretched, as he flashed a grin unlike any other. “It’s awesome.”

He allowed himself the joy of taking in Dean's stretch, the sliver of skin showing. “That, it was.” 

“Damn straight.”

“That, not so much,” Castiel quipped before he could help himself.

The road lights danced in Dean’s eyes. “Cas. That angel today… It could have gone completely wrong.”

“If you hadn’t been there, you mean. Yeah. So be it.”

“What are you? Suicidal? That’s nowhere near an okay answer.”

Castiel looked away. “It’s a realistic answer though, for both of us, as far as I can tell.”

“Yeah, okay, listen up.”

“I’m listening, but I don’t take orders very well. Not anymore.”

“You’ll wanna hear this,” Dean said, voice lower. “I’ll do everything you ask. I’ll always come when you call. From here on out. Okay?”

A restlessness that was ever-roaming in Castiel stuttered to an uncertain halt. The anger in Dean’s voice belied the message behind them. It read as something else in his perception. 

“What?” 

“You heard me.”

* 

Gabriel closed his eyes, trying not to lose his cool at all the stupid going around. Malignant stupid, no less. 

“Michael, just leave him alone. He’s living a regular human life and doing some good while he’s at it. What more can you ask for?”

“A regular human life?” Michael barked, his teeth in stark contrast to his dark skin. “We find out he’s had a guardian these past weeks, a _ demon _ guardian and you dare stand there and tell me Castiel, our father’s favorite, is leading a regular human life?”

Naomi stood next to Michael, a soft smile on her face.

“That demon makes no difference with regard to Dad’s last wishes. Under no circumstances was Cassie to be bothered. He made his choice. Dad agreed with it…”

A brief exchange of looks crossed between Naomi and Michael. There was little Gabriel didn’t catch, but he knew better than to pry openly. So he deflected. “Is this why you called me back? To bitch about Cassie and his favored status?”

“We are in a direct war with The Adversary,” Michael stated with the zeal of… well, a zealot.

“Yeah, and so are the fire pit fiends.”

“Not all of them.”

“Yet those that are find themselves in the same boat as us: stuck here on Earth with humanity. I’d think you’d have bigger fish to fry. Or a life to get.”

“We’ve got our hands more than full,” Naomi snapped. “When we aren’t battling The Adversary, we’re recruiting and hunting our own who have forsaken the path. We could use your help. You’ve wasted enough time with Castiel.”

“Guys… Don’t even try. I have no stake in this fight anymore, because, as you say, we’re _ all _ down here, and somehow Earth is better equipped at keeping The Adversary at bay than Heaven was. Which should tell you something, right? Right?” Gabriel waited a heartbeat. “No, I guess not. No surprises there. You wouldn’t know a critical thought if it spat you in the face.”

“The only reason Earth is holding the line is because of Asgard and _ us_. We’re spread thin as it is.”

Gabriel reeled it in and smirked. “Your point?”

“It’s heinous. Blasphemy to work with those pagans.”

“Don’t you get tired of yourselves? It’s been that same nonsense for eons… I mean, dad’s gone. Who are you trying to impress?”

Michael stepped closer with a few long strides and they stood eye to eye. Well… Michael had a bit of an advantage on him. Nothing spectacular. “It has nothing to do with impressing Dad and everything to do with respect for his creation.”

“You mean humanity?”

“Earth, Gabriel. Earth needs us. Humanity is nothing but a plague, like the demons. And I won’t have Castiel corrupted by either.”

Knowing what he knew about Cassie, Gabriel figured he’d leave it to Michael to discover just how far down the corrupted rabbit hole Castiel already was. With a sigh, he shook his head. “Jeez, Michael, chill already. Deal was made. Leave Cassie be.”

“Or what?”

A tall, bearded man with a yellow glint in his eyes materialized next to his siblings and Gabriel realized the mistake he’d made.

“You’re such a bag of dicks, Michael. And a hypocrite to boot.”

“Needs must when the devil drives, _ brother_.”


	6. What Have I Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you just disintegrate my family?”
> 
> “Your family? What? No! One of them was an angel!”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “The blonde chick, Cas. She was at my Guardianship 101.”

“Feet off the table, Squirrel.”

“Patriarch, actually,” Dean smiled at The King of Hell. He obliged nonetheless, because Ash was giving him _ that look _. Bobby too. A derisive sound could be heard somewhere down the line on his side of the table. The majority of demon patriarchs in the same room. On top of those egos, Crowley had added Asgardians… 

“Right, boys and girls, let’s get this over with. No one wants to be here and we all have better things to do, like ensuring we don’t lose Earth to our beloved malignant one.”

“Remind me again why we aren’t letting him turn Earth into a new Hell?” Ruby asked.

“Because the simple fact that you took the deal with Humanity the first time around means you won’t be there to enjoy said earthly hell. He who hesitates, after all, disintegrates. Pay attention, will you.”

A tall, blonde woman leaned forward, resting her hammer on the table. “We also refuse to let humanity fall to one of yours. They must remain.”

“Ours is a delicate alliance,” Crowley smiled tightly. He gestured at the troupe of Asgardians: Thor, Freya, Vanir, Fenrir and Odin. “It’s your Hel who joined ‘one of ours’. What’s in a name really?”

Dean twirled the phone over and over between his fingers on the table. He’d drawn attention this way more than once. Ash, who was in the know, kept their poker face in check. It had been a long week. A long week of meetings, negotiations, and generally trying to figure out how to survive in the face of annihilation, while juggling Humanity’s expectations. Everyone’s expectations. 

A fraction of demons, mainly the ones who leaned towards humanity, had united as Team Free Will. As a fate demon, Dean had no business even contemplating the concept. On top of that, the fact that the majority of humanity was unaware and/or chose to remain ignorant irked more than one member at the table. It was hard enough to juggle all the balls without having the lazy group member derailing the group project.

“The King of Hell has a point. Our sister turned on us.”

“We all turned on each other at one point,” Crowley said. “Don’t take it personally.”

“What are you saying?” Thor asked. “Of course it’s personal.”

Freya put a hand over Thor’s to cut her off. “When are the follow-up negotiations with the humans and your… Team Free Will, was it?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Never thought that moniker would stick. Freya,” he smiled, “you won’t be attending. I have no guarantee you won’t use your wily ways to get them involved beyond the point of common sense.”

“It’d only be fair if they joined the battle.”

“They’re humans. What can they do?”

“They’re a surprisingly creative lot,” Bobby said. “Living among them has taught me that much. If we provide them with the necessary intel, I am sure they can hold their own.”

Dean kept mum. If they involved humans, the likes of Cas would step up and he wasn’t sure he could handle that. Bounty hunting sprinkled with guardians was plenty of a challenge and he’d noticed Castiel wasn’t as keen on self-preservation as one would expect from a human. Dean had given up on pretending not to care a while ago, at least to himself.

This week had been the first one in a fair while they were not in daily contact. He hadn’t seen Cas since the start of it. To make it easier on himself, Dean had convinced him to take some time off. Whatever bounties were outstanding, they’d still be there after and if they weren’t, new ones would surely pop up. Such was the nature of humanity. They kept in touch through texting and phone calls. Cas kept him apprised of his state of being. 

It seemed Cas’ nature and time off were not a given match, so he spent his time being productive. Castiel seemed to actively resist the possibility of being fully idle. Dean opened his phone and scrolled through the pictures he’d received.

“Proof I am relaxing,” Cas had texted.

“If you have to stress about sending proof, it is hardly relaxing, Cas.”

“Do you want me to stop sending them?”

“No.”

A fresh paint job on the kitchen cupboards. A vertical garden on his deck. Pie. Dean was particularly curious about the pie. And the plants. A book about bees. The cassette tape Dean had given him, tucked in an old cassette player Cas had lying around. An occasional selfie of him sitting in the park. One where he was bouldering.

While he was flicking through his albums, littered with pictures from and of Charlie and Sam, and older ones of the family, a nausea overcame him. He breathed in deeply through his nose. It twisted his gut and he almost horked out loud. The warmth in his chest, his demonic essence, roared. The pulsing bond he’d gotten used to ever since his guardianship became reality seemed to shudder. Opposite him, Ash must have noticed, because he felt his foster parent’s long legs reach over under the table, making grounding contact. Dean looked up and saw the question in their face. He shook his head, fighting the nausea and his fading vision. Muttering something he wasn’t aware of, Dean got up on unsteady legs and stumbled out. His mind kept going back to Cas, until he, blindly, concentrated on the frantic pulsing in his chest that was proof of their bond. He traced it, sniffing it out and bamfed to Castiel’s location.

* 

Castiel sat crouched in front of his oven, catching every second of the pie crust changing. The warm glow was soothing and the sight mesmerizing. A peculiar week for sure. He’d noticed a shift in Dean after that first hunt where they ran into the angel. A vocal shift. Since then they’d been on several hunts together. 

They worked well together, even when they bickered and tried to maintain a balance between their approaches. Castiel insisted Dean carry weapons, whereas Dean wanted to just bamf his way through the open bounties at a supernatural rate. It wasn’t until now that Castiel started looking into the laws surrounding people who had guardians, more specifically bounty hunters. Idle hands. Turned out those rules were quite strict to avoid unfair competition in the field. What Dean did the first time around definitely wasn’t within the realm of acceptable behavior. Faced with an angel guardian, they were given some leeway in their approach, but Castiel got a warning in his file and Dean got a talking to from Raziel. And Ash.

So they had resorted to remaining in each other’s orbit. Life was, if nothing else, structured. There was a routine, as warped as it was for a bounty hunter and a demon patriarch of fate. Humanity was relatively good at providing structure and they both functioned within the gears of society, even on its fringes. Dinners at the oddest times of night, Dean falling asleep on his couch. It was strange to have someone in his personal space more often than not. Cas learned that Dean was fond of singing, cooking and gardening, even though he insisted his green thumb was debatable. The heat of his hands might be working against him. They were a definite perk for cooking. Music played in his apartment for the first time ever, but somehow Dean knew when to turn it off. Dean was stupid fond of Cas' pies and Cas was stupid fond of Dean's singing.

Dean talked about his family in a way that made Cas feel he knew them. It was confusing. He could not forget how he met Dean. It was becoming harder and harder to do so. Their banter didn’t help. As much as Dean seemed to loathe his responsibilities, he carried them. Unflinching. As much as Castiel hated the possibility that he was nothing more than one of said responsibilities, he found Dean’s presence in his life a blessing, if he were to believe in those. Maybe he did. It surely drew him into bemused reveries more often than not, when he wasn’t hunting. Or even when he was.

It was likely the reason he was slow on the uptake when people intruded on his territory.

He rose, turning on his heels and curving his hands behind his back, pretending to hold on to the counter, closing one on the gun in the back of his pants. The air went out of him when he saw who they were.

A tall black man in bounty hunter attire. A short-haired woman in a business suit.

“M… Michael,” he stuttered. “Naomi.”

“Castiel,” Naomi nodded. “It’s good to see you.”

Castiel tucked his chin in, glaring at his open front door. “You could have knocked.”

Michael shrugged, a clipped gesture, as he scanned Castiel’s apartment. This was when Castiel reaffirmed why he kept it as simple as he did. There were no weaknesses to observe. Or there wouldn’t have been, if it wasn’t for one of Dean’s dirty plaid shirts slung over a chair carelessly. He’d left, wearing one of Castiel’s. The guitar next to the couch. The dishes that screamed two people resided here. His heart began an imitation of a hummingbird’s wings.

“How are you, Castiel?” Naomi asked. Her voice carried that familiar kindness to it, masking the manipulator beneath.

“I am fine, Naomi.”

“It looks a bit bare here,” Michael offered, gaze lingering on the shirt.

“I like to keep things modest,” Castiel bit, crossing his arms, leaving the gun where it was. Between Naomi’s veneer of warmth and Michael’s hostile scrutiny, he felt 15 years old all over again. Even if this derailed, he’d not pull a gun on his family and trusted they wouldn’t either.

“Don’t you miss the liveliness of home?”

The question made contact with a raw nerve within. They grew up together. Michael knew Castiel’s weaknesses, even if he hid his inner world behind an eggshell-white apartment with only one mattress.

“Don’t you miss your siblings? The warmth of our family home?”

“I can’t say I do,” he said evenly.

Michael shot him a dead-eyed look and smiled. “Do not lie to me, brother. I know when you do. You are lonely.”

Castiel felt physically ill. These encounters could turn at the flip of a switch. Michael’s temper could shift, escalating into violence, with one wrong word. Never knowing what word it was this time around. Naomi could find the pressure point and dig her nails in, sending his mind off its hinges.

Michael was close to the truth, closer than he’d like him to be, except for something else that shifted into focus. He mentally steeled himself. “Not as lonely as you think.”

This time, Naomi laughed and she exchanged a look with Michael. “So we’ve heard. Where _ is _ your guardian, Cassie?”

Castiel kept his silence and willed his facial features to neutrality.

“Don’t pretend, Castiel, we know you have a demon guardian.”

A squinted frown. How did they find out? The family network was vast, but as far as he could remember that plane of existence had not been one of them. Unless Gabriel blabbed.

“It’s not right, Castiel, we try to make the world a better place. We try to do our part, but we need you back home. A demon can’t be of much help.”

“Said demon is helping me in my job. I don’t see the issue.”

“Cassie, he’ll corrupt you.”

Castiel snorted a laugh, because he was well past the point of _potential _corruption.

“Don’t you see? You belong with us, your family.”

“I guess you should have thought of that before your loving and nurturing demeanor drove me away.”

“We didn’t drive you away,” Naomi said. “You wanted out and Dad let you.”

“Look where you are. This soulless apartment. You’re running with a demon.”

“He’s done less harm to me than you have.”

Naomi’s cool demeanour didn’t waver, but he saw the subtle shift in Michael. He should hold his tongue… but he wanted to set the boundary. He wanted them the fuck out of his personal space.

Naomi pleaded, palms out. “Please don’t force our hand. You know what Father is like when he doesn’t get his way.”

His voice didn’t break like it used to, but he felt that familiar tremor in his body. “You don’t say… But Dad let me go. And as far as I know, he also left you hanging high and dry. Gabe told me that much. Don’t try to guilt me into coming back.”

There it was… That tilted moment. Castiel braced himself. Michael’s anger became tangible in the relative confines of the apartment. There was no way to forget. Muscle memory was always seen as a physical thing, but the brain was a muscle too and he felt his lock in place. Faced with both of them, the old pattern gripped him tight and try as he might, he couldn’t snap out of it. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his hands on the kitchen counter once more, a deer caught in headlights, unable to move under the oppressive presence of his older siblings. 

His mind kept flitting back to Dean and his siblings. The warmth of his presence during hunts. The ease with which he and his family faced life’s challenges, and they were _ demons_. What does it say about your family if a family of demons does better than yours?

“Gabe talks too much.”

Castiel gave a ‘duh’ shrug, unable to speak.

“Come home, Castiel. I am no longer asking.”

A tremor shook the building, the windows clattering, and Michael’s dark eyes bored into him. Castiel felt a faintness threaten to come over him, when Dean appeared in his living room, pulling his shoulders back as he unfolded his wings, eyes ablaze. “Yeah, okay, douchebag, I don’t know who you are, but how about you get lost.”

He lifted his hand, the demon claws out, and in that second a few things happened at once. Dean tilted his head in recognition at Naomi. She in turn grimaced at Dean and grabbed hold of Michael. Michael looked Dean over and the next second both of them were gone.

“What the…? Cas, are you okay? I came as soon as I felt…”

Castiel let out an explosive breath and went to his knees, his back against the kitchen cupboard. Blindly, he felt for the ground, pushing both palms into the cold kitchen tiles. He lowered his head to his knees and entwined the fingers of both hands over the back of his head. His breath came too fast, his head pounded. Dean closed the distance between them, crouching next to him. A warm hand closed over Castiel’s knee, another came to rest at the nape of his neck, his thumb gently caressing. 

Without looking at Dean, he asked: “You felt this?”

A moment’s silence. “Yeah. I felt nauseous during the meeting. Which means nothing, cause I get nauseous half the time when I’m with those goons. I was looking at your pictures and...”

Castiel lifted his head to look at Dean, feeling the tears stinging his eyes and blinked furiously so he could focus on Dean’s apple greens and the freckles. He should have left this behind. He shouldn’t have to feel this way and Dean shouldn’t have to deal with it.

“Did you just disintegrate my family?”

“Your family? What? No! One of them was an angel!”

“What?”

“The blonde chick, Cas. She was at my Guardianship 101.”

Castiel felt his mouth hang agape and had to squeeze his eyes shut. “Oh, there it is.”

“What is? What?”

“A massive headache just hit. She was… what?”

“I doesn’t matter. Can you get up?”

“Not yet, I think.”

Dean’s hand rested on his neck, warm and steady. He leaned closer and Castiel leaned into his warmth on instinct. “Cas, what happened… You looked like…”

“I couldn’t move?” he interrupted. “Yeah, Michael has that effect.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, studying his face and Castiel looked away, embarrassed. A gentle squeeze on the back of his neck made him sigh.

“Is that pie?”

Castiel let out a semi-desperate chuckle, as he slid back up against the counter, Dean following suit. Personal space lost all meaning. “Yes. And it does matter, Dean. She’s my sister.”

“Who cares if she is? If they are assholes, it’s okay to draw the line.” 

“Is it? I find myself wondering…”

Dean eyed him, a question in his green eyes. 

“Like how did that conversation escalate like that? All I did was set a boundary…”

“Douchebags who don’t know the meaning of respect, Cas. Your vision is 20/20. You weren’t wrong. I mean, our family has some issues, but shit, that level of fear just isn’t right.”

“They have that effect on people… What I did, what Dad allowed me to do, is generally not done.”

“You make it sound so normal. Why?”

Castiel pressed his lips together, leaning over to check on the pie. It hadn’t burned. “They wanted me to come home.”

“Again, why? If it’s a whole damn nest of them, why do they need you?”

“For one, I am very good at what I do. For two, the world changed… It’s messier.”

Dean made his ‘Well, yeah’ face. “If they’re only catching on this late in the game, I dunno… It’s been messier for several decades. Why show up now?”

“I don’t know. They… don’t like… you very much? We are a principled lot.”

“Unless they’re fucking, feeding or financing me, I don’t care a rat’s ass if they like me,” Dean bit. “And neither should you.”

Castiel’s mind did a double-take at the parameters laid out and was in limbo for a bit, but Dean didn’t seem to notice, his anger overriding his observation skills.

“So… Do you _ want _ to go back?”

“No.”

“Okay, awesome. Then don’t go.” Dean nodded, as if that decision was made and got the pie out of the oven, without oven mitts. Small tendrils of smoke twirled off of his skin, but there were no burns. 

Castiel looked at Dean’s hands, wanting to reach over. “I wasn’t planning to, Dean.”

“Then why do you look constipated?”

“You just made my brother and sister vanish. You told me you saw my sister with the angels.”

“There’s little she can do, even if she’s a guardian. They ran as soon as I arrived.”

“But Naomi… _ is _ she an angel? Did you see wings? I feel like we need to know if my sister is one of those feathery fucks.”

Castiel got patted down, as if Dean was ensuring he was stable on his feet before he returned his attention to the pie. In the glow of the kitchen light, his demon form faded with a chuckle at the insult.

“She sat next to me during my info session. So by my records, yes, she’s a feathery fuck,” he said emphatically.

“But she never was. If anything, she was quite the opposite.”

Dean straightened back up, a mild frown on his face and looked at Cas. “A demon?”

“No, she’s an utter manipulative bitch.”

“That still covers about half of Hell.”

“Dean.”

“I get it, I get it. Your sister might be an angel. I don’t know how that works. Can people become angels?”

“Isn’t the whole point of being an angel that you are a divine being from the get-go?”

“Judging by your reaction, there isn’t anything divine about your siblings.”

“There shouldn’t be,” Castiel muttered.

“How about this? You come home with me, where it’s safe. We check in with Ash and Bobby on this.”

Castiel’s breath hitched. “Home?”

“Where else?”

“This is my home, Dean, and I don’t want to be chased out.”

A mild sigh escaped Dean. “I get that, but it would be a smarter move. What if they return?”

Cas shrugged and made a dismissive face. “I hate to point out the obvious here.”

“Why don’t I just live here, huh?” Not giving Cas the chance to reply, Dean got a knife out of the drawer and leaned his hip against the counter. “At least offer me pie if you’re not going to cooperate.”

Castiel mirrored him, leaning closer. “Why do I get the feeling you’ll keep trying either way?”


	7. Who Have I Become

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re here!” Charlie clapped her hands and bounced her way over to Castiel’s side. “Hi!”
> 
> Her energy was radiant and the word adorable sprung to mind. He wasn’t sure how demons felt about that. “Hi,” he replied, a touch awkward.

After the sibling invasion, Dean’s insistence Castiel join him to Lawrence never wavered. When he kept refusing, Dean made good on his promise to involve the family. Castiel wasn’t sure how to feel about the Winchester siblings and Dean’s foster-parents being in the know. Something he mulled over while he stayed home in what had become an unsafe space. It took Castiel several days of uncomfortable night’s rests, followed by the umpteenth shower, to try to clear his head. When that failed, he stood staring at his phone in his foggy bathroom, until he caved and called Dean. He picked up on the first ring. 

“Cas, you okay?”

“I’m sure you’d know if I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you calling?” 

Cas bit the inside of his cheek and was about to lie, when Dean cursed and – on principle no doubt - bamfed into his apartment.

“You are _ not _supposed to be doing that so freely!” Cas protested, ensuring the towel was tucked around his waist.

Dean was visibly frustrated and shook the phone at him. “Let me bottom line it for you. I’m not leaving here without you.”

Half an hour later, he was in the passenger seat of Baby, two packed duffels on the backseat, the leftovers of the food he’d made, Dean's guitar and a bunch of his weapons in Baby’s trunk. Dean beamed a smile at him from behind the wheel. 

“Good call, Cas. Plenty of demons. Safest place to be.”

“Why does it still feel I’m walking into an ambush?”

“Because you probably are. Maybe they’ll stop harassing me for a change.”

Castiel grimaced. “I appreciate it.”

“They’ll love you.”

He cast a curious glance at Dean, whose hands hit the wheel to the beat of the music, which was decidedly better than Gabe’s. “This is a surprising playlist.”

“A, this is a cassette, not a playlist. B, _ this _ is Led Zeppelin. We’re getting Blue Öyster Cult in a bit. Those guys have some outstanding work.”

“I don’t know a lot of music.”

“Really?” Dean squinted at him. “How could you not?”

Castiel gave a mild shrug. There had been little room in his life for music. For him a distinct need for silence came with the lifestyle. Except that wasn't really true anymore, because he found he enjoyed Dean's singing. A lot. Absentmindedly his thoughts turned back to the prospect of finally meeting Dean’s family and a quiet hum of nerves picked up. “So they’ll love me, huh?”

Dean cleared his throat with a nod and opened the windows. The breeze of the outskirts of the city filled the car, billowing up their shirts and messing up their hair. “Are there bounties you have to get to in the coming days?”

Castiel closed his eyes and turned his face into the wind with a sigh. “It’s a bit slow at the moment in this area. I’ve travelled further than the outstanding ones. But… I find myself strangely tired.” He sighed the last word.

“You don’t slow down a lot, do you?”

Castiel looked at him. “How do you mean?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, my point right there.”

“I don’t understand your question.”

“I don’t know, Cas. All I see you do is chase bad guys for a living and go back to your apartment. The most I’ve seen you do anything else was that bit of time off you took while I was stuck in one of the levels of hell in endless meetings.”

“I will have you know I was coerced.”

“You made pie. It’s for a good cause.”

“You’re one to talk with your war preparations.”

“_Preparations_. Key word. I’ve actually been with you most of my time. But here’s the thing. We were given human rules to live by. There’s such a thing as family time.”

“My family are dogmatic control freaks. With a potential angel sprinkled in.”

Dean closed his eyes, as he pursed his lips in annoyance. “Yeah, I knew it when I said it. But… We’ve been doing okay, hunting together, you and I. We’re making it up as we go.”

“We are,” Castiel nodded, unsure what Dean was implying. 

“Remember when we first met?”

Castiel sat still, turning scrutinizing eyes on Dean. There had to be a logical jump from family to their meeting, but he was fearful to give it too much thought. Or hope. Dean, in turn, kept his eyes firm on the road and when Castiel didn’t reply, he looked over, a touch impatient. “Well, do you recall or not?”

“Every moment,” Castiel breathed out, as he held eye contact.

A delightful colour crept up from Dean’s neck. His eyebrows did a trick, the one where his face became all emotion, and he quickly looked back to the road, clearing his throat. “You never once mentioned your job.”

“Because I wasn’t there to talk about my job. Neither were you.”

“True, but you… You mentioned… You did mention your family. I didn’t know that was tied to your job, right? I mean, it was late and we were drunk…”

“Were you? Really?”

A gentle scoffing sound. “That second night, yeah. We _ can _ get drunk. I just spiked mine with something extra. No, you can’t try it. Human systems don’t digest it well. You were drunk and you said something about how you got away from your family, but not entirely.”

“That sounds like something I could say.”

“You don’t recall?”

He lied. “It’s hazy. What’s your question?”

“What did you mean by that? Like, where would you rather be if you managed to get away from them and their influence entirely?”

Castiel drummed his fingers on the side of the door, his arm resting on the open window. “That’s a difficult question. We never quite leave behind who we grew up with, regardless of how much we try.”

Dean grimaced. “Influences tend to linger, yeah. We’ve arrived though, so I guess… I gotta cut you some slack. They’ll take the questioning from here.” He pointed at two people standing in front of the Winchester house.

Castiel looked up to find a man the size of a car and a pixie of a redheaded woman. He tried to sink into the seat deeper and was surprised by the hand on his. “I’m kidding, Cas. If you don’t wanna answer, then don’t. Them, I mean, I still want my answer.” He shot Castiel the smile that lit up his eyes and the room along with it, as he opened Baby’s door.

“You’re here!” Charlie clapped her hands and bounced her way over to Castiel’s side. “Hi!”

Her energy was radiant and the word adorable sprung to mind. He wasn’t sure how demons felt about that. She crowded his personal space as soon as he got out of the car.

“Hi,” he replied, a touch awkward.

“I thought you’d be shorter.”

He looked over her head to Dean for help, who merely shrugged in response before hugging his brother, clapping a strong hand on his back. The next second, Castiel was being hugged by Charlie and he held quite still for a bit. It had been a long time since people were so physical with him. The past months Dean had been in his hamster ball. That was it.

“Hey, Castiel,” Sam smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“Hello, Sammy,” Castiel responded. “_Sam_. I’m sorry, Dean mentioned you don’t like it.”

“He’s the only one who gets away with it usually. Come on in.”

“I have to get my…”

“Got your stuff, keep walking,” Dean said, guitar on his back, one duffel slung over each shoulder and food leftovers balanced in both hands, as he walked up the stairs to the open front door. Sam stared after his brother, the frown of clever scrutiny marring his forehead.

“Did you need any of your weapons?” Charlie asked.

Castiel glanced back at her, standing by Baby’s trunk. “Would you be okay with that?”

She made a snerking noise and picked up one of his handguns and rested his shotgun on her shoulder. “They don’t really harm us _ or them _, so we don’t mind. And you’re Dean’s charge. We need to keep you safe.” The tone in which she said the latter was unnerving.

“We _ can _teach you what to use to harm angels,” Sam added. “Since you seem to be having an angel problem.”

Castiel’s head reeled. “If I do, it’s my sister, so I am not sure I want to shoot her.”

“Really?” Sam asked. “From what we understood, she’s a bit of a… Anyway, we’ve got angel warding up.”

“Angel warding?” 

These two seemed to view him in a way that Castiel wasn’t aware of until now. They also knew shit he hadn’t even started to contemplate, simply because he’d never had to consider the supernatural beings as downright adversaries up until – potentially - quite recently.

“Come on, guys! I’m hungry,” Dean called from inside.

“We just had lunch,” Castiel called back.

“That was three hours ago!”

“Did I see Dean carry pie inside?” Charlie perked up. “Is Eileen still upstairs?”

Castiel almost ran into said Eileen, he presumed, upon turning the corner into the spacious living room, carried by wooden overtones. She gestured at him in greeting. Realizing instantly, Castiel smiled at her, his brow knitted in reflex empathy and he gestured back. The frown that had started to form between her eyebrows vanished. 

“You know sign language?” she asked.

“Language buff as a child,” he smiled.

He felt Sam’s hand on his back as they made their way to the kitchen.

*

If Castiel didn’t know any better, it looked like your average household. Pictures on the walls and shelves. A sturdy wooden table dominated the room, candle lights at both ends. A keen eye could spot several items that were decidedly out of place in your average home. He saw markings carved into one of the walls, which suggested decoration, but something about the signs was familiar. He’d never seen them before, he was sure, and yet… His eyes zoned in on shelves of leather-bound books with titles in languages he didn’t know. A bowl of water on the small coffee table in the sitting area looked out of place. Another guitar sat on its stand next to the couch.

The total coming to six, Cas watched Dean reluctantly move some of the tea lights out of the way to take his seat at the head of the table. There was room for three more people, which registered as painful but muted. A large steaming oven dish. Mashed potatoes and peas on the side. Beer. AC/DC in the background, despite Sam’s protest they were not riding shotgun in their own home, until Eileen stepped in and put something decidedly more suitable on.

“So what’s it like having my brother for a guardian?” Sam asked, passing the peas over.

“Surprisingly Kafkaesque.” He dug into the food, then realised they perhaps didn’t get the reference. “By which I mean…”

“It’s a bureaucratic mess,” Sam nodded. “I’ve spent some time with humans by now. Crowley’s got nothing on you.”

“Crowley?”

“King of Hell up top. Well, down here. On Earth.”

“Oh,” Castiel nodded. “Of course.”

“Just a lot of rules we have to take into account,” Dean mouthed around a spoonful of stew.

“Like what?” Sam asked.

“I can’t use my powers to help him do his job.”

“As I understand it, _ he _’s not allowed to show his demon form, technically, but he has.”

“I can’t…”

“It just dawned on me. The rules all apply to you, don’t they?” Castiel interrupted, amused.

Dean’s spoon hung still halfway to his mouth, sauce dripping. “Fuck, balls, yes. Talk about the short end of the stick. But I guess that goes for the rules in general. They were put in place to keep us in check, not you.”

“As if you’ve played by the rules in your life,” Sam said. 

Dean made an ‘ehhh’ gesture with his free hand. “Maybe not from your perspective. I’ve been playing by the majority of the rules for longer than I care to admit.”

Eileen pursed her lips, as she signed. “You cut corners all the time. Especially when it serves you.”

“Except when you were fraternizing, I guess?” Charlie piped up. She cast her wide eyes around the table, making sure everyone was involved.

Dean choked on his food for a second and ensured no eye contact was made by gulping down half his beer. Castiel followed the movement of his Adam’s apple, which was as good a place as any to put his focus. Until he realised differently.

Sam smirked and lowered his gaze in an attempt to hide it. His elbow shot out to shove Charlie, who ignored it with the skill of a practised sibling. Eileen looked from Dean to Cas and back with amused interest.

Keeping his face as neutral as possible, Castiel’s gaze fell to Charlie. Pale skin, brown eyes, red hair loose around her shoulders. The start of laughing lines at her eyes. Cute. Innocence incarnate almost. _ Almost. _Next to the giant form of Sam, demons came in surprising shapes and forms, it seemed. They were so much more than he ever gave them credit for, but then he’d never given them that much thought beyond their mere existence.

What had Dean said she did? A scryer. He was convinced Dean had not told them about their _ fraternizing_, which meant…

“And what is it you do exactly?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “In this demon family business.”

“I scry,” she said, happily engaging his dodge question. “Sam and I both do.”

Next to him, he saw a weary mindfulness in Dean’s face that confirmed his suspicions. The little tyke had found out through sneaky channels.

“I see the rule bending runs in the family,” Castiel said.

Charlie had the decency to blush.

“Well, he _ did_,” Eileen nuanced. “Charlie still does. He’s human now.” 

“And a lawyer,” Charlie added.

“Pardon?” Castiel inhaled some of his beer up his nose and coughed. “You’re human?”

Sam rolled his eyes, the attitude oozing off his 6 foot 4 frame, as he shook his head at Charlie. 

“Mostly, yes,” he said. “Eileen and I run a law firm, specifically geared towards representing supernatural beings. I chose to live a human life, so I gave up my powers, but retain my demon memories.”

Castiel repeated those last words without making a sound, his face scrunched up. “I had no idea that was possible.”

“One of those higher up decisions that got made when we joined humanity on this giant marble,” Dean said. “Or rather after we settled in a bit. There was some fall-out to mixing us all up that they didn’t account for.”

“Nobody could have anticipated the mass panic. Or the lack of foresight.”

“History, anyone? Have you seen how they stand on rooftops with signs for aliens? Someone could have made an educated guess.”

“It’s true,” Charlie nodded. “There are few instances in human history where the mixing of two separate races ended in rainbows and unicorns. And we’re a different species altogether.”

“In theory, we’re all made by the hand of God,” Eileen said. “Even you.”

Dean let rip a derisive snort. “God… If anything we’re kids of the Universe. Stardust.”

“Aww, Dean,” Charlie smiled. “What a beautiful thought.”

“It beats the alternative, right?”

Castiel had disengaged from the conversation, chewing the implications of Sam’s words.

“You okay, Cas, buddy?”

He snapped his attention back to Dean and nodded, then glowered at him, unsure why his mood shifted. “I’m fine. Don’t call me buddy.”

Dean gave him a sharp look, moving his plate and utensils around until he slid them away from himself. “Dessert?”

“Not for me,” Sam huffed, patting his stomach. “Eileen and I promised to drop by Ash and Bobby’s.”

“Fishin’?”

“Yeah,” Eileen nodded. “Some quiet. It’s been a busy week.”

“I’ll take a piece or two for the road,” Charlie smiled. “Meeting Dorothy for D&D and staying over. But hey, that’s more pie for you guys.”

It was Dean’s turn to glower, though Cas was unsure why. He nodded at his siblings. “Of course. Leave us with the dishes.”

“We have a dishwasher, you drama queen.” 

“You’ll thank us.” Sam smirked at his brother.

All of them got up to clear their plates and put a fair amount of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. It took another good ten to fifteen minutes of banter and talking and hugs, before they actually made it out the door, with promises of greetings to be passed on to Dorothy, Ash and Bobby made.

That’s when it dawned on Castiel. “They left us alone?”

Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Way to go with the perception check, Cas.”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“Ask Charlie next time. It’s one of her Dungeons & Demons dork jokes.”

Next time. The ease with which he was enveloped into this family felt surreal. “Oh… That. Isn’t it called Dungeons & Dragons?”

“She and Dorothy share a peculiar sense of humour. Basically, it’s a bunch of demons around the table, pretending to be something else. Usually something ridiculously cool. I think Charlie’s a queen who got dethroned and Dorothy’s an explorer pirate. Or something.”

“Because being a demon isn’t cool enough in and of itself. Of course.” Castiel smiled, both at Dean’s unique mix of warmth and aggravation at his siblings, and the thought of sharing this particular house with Dean, at not being alone at night in a homely setting for the first time in a way too long, in a place that wasn't already steeped in his loneliness. He pointed at the kitchen. “Pie outside?”

“Hell, yes.”


	8. And I Understood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean felt the warmth of Castiel’s leg touching his seep through his jeans. When he’d snuck closer he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure which of them had closed the distance.
> 
> “How strange.” Castiel tilted his head, squinting.
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “That a demon family comes to Earth to experience those open windows, but a human, born and raised, never did.”

Dean sighed. He could get used to Castiel’s pies, especially when eating said pies with Cas in the safety of their garden, sharing one of their swing benches. The early summer warmth had coaxed about everything he and Charlie had planted into blossoming. In the dusk of early night, the garden bathed in a dark blue hue, except for the light of the fire they’d made. Splashes of yellow and orange scattered like a kaleidoscope over the landscape. 

Dean leaned back, one leg splayed out so he could burrow his toes into the grass underneath the gently rocking bench. Pressed between the back of the seat and his thigh was a glass of whiskey. Next to him sat Castiel, one leg folded underneath him, a plate with the last crumbs of his pie in one hand as he leaned his chin on the other. 

Castiel looked over. “This isn’t what I expected.”

“Our living conditions?”

“Yes.”

“What _ did _ you expect?”

Castiel shrugged, sliding the plate onto the small table on his side of the bench, as he ran a hand through his hair, setting the dark mess on end every which way. In just his shirt, as opposed to his regular multi-layered bounty hunter’s outfit, including the trenchcoat, Castiel looked more at ease, but vulnerable. As if he needed the layers to ensure survival.

He poked the fire Dean had stoked, eyes narrowed at the direct glare of the flames.

“More fire perhaps. The occasional spiked body. An upside down pentagram.”

“We do like a good fire,” Dean said. He sipped his glass. “There’s plenty of fire in Hell.”

“Really?”

“Nah. I mean… there is more than there is here and the natural temperatures are higher, simply because of its proximity to the centre of the Earth, but it’s not like we all danced naked in our demon forms around giant fire pits.”

“That’s really disappointing.” 

“I imagine it is.”

“The signs on the wall…”

Dean frowned, his senses prickling with vigilance. “Yeah?”

“What are they?”

There was a stronger tug at his core. As a former Wrath demon, the influence of The Adversary was never far off, despite the Winchesters having stayed with the remnants of the supernatural clusters on Earth. There was a song being sung to him at all times, begging him to return to his rightful place under The Adversary. Under duress, it got worse. During hunts with Cas, he’d noticed it sounded louder, but Cas’ presence seemed to counterbalance it. For this reason, Dean pushed past the suspicion.

“Angel warding. They keep angels out. Sam talked about putting them up in your place.”

What looked like relief shimmered over Castiel’s face. “I think I’d like that.”

“Consider it done,” Dean nodded.

A soft smile played on Cas’ lips, as the light of the fire played over his features. They sat in the silence of night-time for a while until… Cas squinted at him. “Do you miss it?”

This was something else entirely. He wanted to tell him. Dean had been hard-pressed _ not _to notice his tendency to want to tell Castiel stuff he didn’t tell many others. Their pulsing bond practically begged him to give in. He didn’t tell Sam half the stuff going on in his head. Same for Charlie. Triple that for Ash and Bobby. Part of Dean wanted to extend the same sense of protection to Cas and another part wanted to bare his soul. He also remembered he’d asked Cas a question first.

“Yeah, no,” he protested. “You first.”

Cas grimaced. “I hoped you’d forgotten.”

“Not likely. Do I need to help you along and repeat the question?” He swirled the last of his whiskey and drank it, setting the glass down in the grass.

“No, Dean,” Cas said, actually rolling his eyes and shooting him a mock glare. “I recall. Bounty hunters are usually blessed with a decent memory, if we’re not wasted to the point of amnesia.”

Dean shot him a smug smile, folded his legs under him and leaned his elbows on his knees. “All ears, Cas.”

“You’ll answer my question after, if I have to tackle you for it,” Cas threatened.

Dean’s blood ran a touch faster at the mental image. “Promise?”

Castiel’s eyes did that thing, where they saw past the attitude with empathic ease, like he saw Dean - all of him, down to his core. “I remember what I said, by the way. We were tucked away in that booth, the second night, if I recall well.”

A stupid grin formed on his face, Dean couldn’t help it. A cosy booth that had been.

“It’s like you said. Influences… You can run from the source, but you can’t outrun what you drag with you. Habits, convictions. They’re embedded in your flesh and soul. I may have gotten away from my family physically, I’m pretty sure my life is still determined by the same principles. And when confronted with them face to face… Well, you saw what that did.”

Dead nodded. He knew the lingering effects of abuse when he saw them. “And those principles are?”

“Family loyalty before everything else. Leave the world better than you found it. At all costs.”

Dean eyed Cas’ face and thought he read a mixture of pride and deep sadness. “Sounds only mildly one-track-minded.”

“Destructive, is what it was. I remember feeling so tired all the time. There was no end to the need to improve the world. No rest. We finished one objective, three more popped up and it just… never stopped.”

“Not really… Not with humanity doing what it does best.” Being a demon, Dean was all too aware of the extent to which humanity could go. There were no limits to their creativity when it came to both ends of the spectrum, but even he had noticed that the scales had tipped in favour of destruction. It was no wonder The Adversary had succeeded.

“Michael loved it. He’s good at it and he determined the pace for all of us. Trying to impress Dad. So was I, to be fair. Which is probably why I still do what I do. But they are so very good at some things. Some of the things I want.”

“Who?”

“Humanity. We’re so good at some things.”

Dean leaned closer, intrigued by the words and hearing the deep need in Castiel’s voice. “Such as?”

“I want a crackling fire like this to sit by. Early dawn breakfasts, like the one you made on the third day.”

Dean’s heart heaved and lodged in his throat at the ease with which Cas plucked up the memory. It had seemed like such a mundane thing to do, even if he knew he only cooked for… certain people. Cas hadn’t known that… Yet the gesture had stuck.

“Fresh pie. Open windows with a breeze coming in. Peace.”

“World peace?”

Cas snorted a soft laugh, a shy tilt to his head, eyes cast down. “Hardly. And unlikely. Just peace of mind. Just as unlikely.”

Dean let it sink in. It reminded him of… a different time, when he, Sam and Charlie had still been in demon puberty.

“I told you about Ash, right?”

Castiel nodded, his blue eyes resting on Dean’s face, a familiar relaxation seeping into his body language. Dean felt his chest pulsing, eager, demanding and he wondered if Cas felt it too.

“They and Bobby have always been part of our lives. Even to demon standards, mom and dad and they were unusually tight. They used to take us out… for camping trips, I guess you could call them.”

“Demons go camping?” Castiel smiled. A running joke, by now, whenever a conventional activity came up in demon circles.

“Not the way Ash and Bobby camped with us. They took us here. To Earth. Dad never knew, or I’m pretty sure he’d have popped a vein.” Dean chuckled. “He was old school demon, our dad. The new world order Post-Adversary hit him pretty hard, as far as betrayals go.”

He waved it away, unwilling to reveal the full truth. “Not the point. We camped out. Just for a few days. I’m not sure why Bobby and Ash did it. Maybe they sensed something blowing in the wind. They _ were _fate demons before. Maybe they were just looking for a change of scenery for us. Either way, I never forgot what I saw here. We always went to the same little cottage. Just out in the middle of nowhere. Those open windows… They were there.”

Dean felt the warmth of Castiel’s leg touching his seep through his jeans. When he’d snuck closer he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure which of them had closed the distance.

“How strange.” Castiel tilted his head, squinting.

“What?”

“That a demon family comes to Earth to experience those open windows, but a human, born and raised, never did.”

Dean held Cas’ gaze. He wanted to call into question Cas’ family… but there was something more important at play. Something that made the glow in his chest pulse faster. “I can open a few windows inside for the night, if you like.”

A minute raise in Castiel’s eyebrows. There was something familiar in this moment in time, yet something entirely otherworldly as well. He could not pinpoint what it was about Castiel, but then he hadn’t been able to the first time around either. 

The first time?

Ah… There it was.

They ran out of words. His skin became aware of the temperature, the wind, Cas’ presence as if the energy of reality pressed down on him with more intent. It set his blood on fire.

Dean allowed himself a smile, as he leaned in and watched Castiel’s eyes widen, before fluttering shut the nanosecond their lips met. He was sure Cas could feel his heart trying to hammer its way out his body.

Dean brought his hands to the sides of Castiel’s face and tugged him closer, until he felt a hand on his chest, which promptly twisted into the fabric. The chains groaned under their shifting weight. He breathed Cas in through the kiss. There was a hitch of a breath’s moment, when Cas leaned over him, the fire playing havoc in his already intense eyes, darkening them and shadows moved behind him, fanning out. Dean drank in the view.

“Show me the cottage, Dean.”

The request was a surprise, but the answer needed no consideration. Dean snaked a hand under Castiel’s shirt, rested it against his ribs, close to where he could feel his heart beating. It kept pace with his own. The scent of pie, with a hint of the spiked coffee underneath, distracted him, as he consciously hovered their lips an inch apart, soaking in it. A slight tug at his hair made him blink. There was something there, at the center of Cas, that would perhaps reveal itself if he kept looking, if he held on and mapped all of him, his face, his body, his soul. Dean slid his other hand into Castiel’s hair and held tight, materialising his wings, when he bamfed them out.


	9. Cause I Feel The Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Personal space, Cas.”
> 
> Cas gave him a dead-pan stare. “I think we’re well past that, Dean.”

  
Dean ensured they landed on their feet upon arrival, tucking his wings the next moment. It was darker here. So much darker than the city and their home. In his arms, Castiel seemed to expand and it took Dean a second to realise he was breathing in deep. A muffled sneeze into his chest followed. He chuckled when Cas apologized, let go and walked over the creaky wooden floor to open up windows and shutters. With the familiarity of childhood, he moved through the dark, side-stepping the furniture blindly, but hitting a stray bottle that clinked sharply as it rolled away under one of the cabinets.

The night air was crisp and warm, a breeze drifting inside. Cas moved around, bumping into one of the lower barstools in his search for light. Dean was reluctant to speak, but when he heard the clatter of cutlery and some cursing, he poked his head out of the bedroom where he was in the process of opening the windows. “Candles are in the top drawer left of the sink.”

Some rummaging and the sound one makes when finding what they were looking for. “Fire?” Cas asked when they met up in the hallway.

Dean lit the tip of his finger, the flame dancing on top of it like angels on a pin. Cas stared, eyes wide, then smiled, the kind that shed the weariness of life. They gathered a bunch of bottles and candle holders, lit them, until the small living room’s shadows were chased by a handful of dancing lights.

Castiel walked to the open window and leaned his arms wide, his head turned up at the skies. Dean caught the audible gasp and Castiel’s voice was thick with wonder and emotion when he spoke. “The stars are visible here…”

“One of the last places where they are,” Dean said.

Dean stood still for a period void of time, hands in his pockets, watching Cas watch the stars. 

Until an idea hit. He turned to the small fireplace and sent a gust of wind up the chimney, testing the draft. Sufficiently reassured, he stacked up a few logs and some kindle, then set it ablaze with a snap of his fingers.

“You’re just showing off now,” Cas said. Dean stood up and found the darkened eyes, a twinkle in them, as he slowly turned around and leaned back against the window sill.

“Is it working?”

“Dean. Come here.”

There. That tone. The first time around it had confused Dean, the ease with which he _ wanted _to give in. It went against everything he’d been taught. And yet… Ceding to Castiel was a first. If he gave it thought, it unsettled him. He’d succeeded at holding back a part of himself. Never show your cards. The fact that one night turned into two and then three proved he didn’t fully succeed. The fact that they were here now and he was contemplating ceding control all over again, putting stock in a pulsing feeling in his chest that he may or may not be imagining… Well… 

The feeling of Cas’ hand near his belt buckle snapped his attention back to the here and now. Dean felt his eyes soften as he smiled and leaned in, capturing Cas’ lips. Perhaps it was being away from everything. Perhaps it was the warm air on the skin. The scent of night. More obvious, the scent of Cas. Perhaps he’d been waiting for the chance.

He slid one leg between Cas’, their boots bumping, and a hand back under the shirt to tease skin and feel his heartbeat. A strong, slow beat, which sped up under his caress. Deft fingers undid the buttons to his own shirt, and when Castiel’s head tilted, that little bit, to gain access to Dean’s mouth, he groaned softly, his breath a touch faster, and obliged. Cas’ hips responded as did everything else about him. If he were poetry-minded, which he wasn’t, Dean might have said it felt like a soul response. The glow in his chest thrummed with them. _ Insane_.

He lapped his way down Castiel’s jawline to his throat, their scruff scratching, his teeth grazing; both hands slid down to cup Cas’ ass and push them closer, hips rolling. Two arms circled around his neck, one hand firm in his hair and Dean felt pressure, as Cas’ body language told him to _ lift_. So he did. With ease, because there was no reason to pretend he was anything but what he was.

He felt his form flicker at the thought. A gasp into his mouth. He opened his eyes and found Cas’ wide eyes staring at him, a different kind of hunger there.

“Do it again.”

“Do what again?”

“I saw you,” he breathed against his lips. “Show me.”

A reluctance gripped him. One sibling might have called it shyness. The other caution. Dean frowned and shook his head, the gesture losing some of its effectiveness in such close encounters. Of the third kind, Sam would undoubtedly offer up unhelpfully. He was distracting himself to refocus and licked Cas’ bottom lip, mumbling the answer.

“Nope. Not happening.”

“Is that a challenge?” Cas smiled, as he wrapped his legs tighter around Dean’s waist and slid one arm down between them, slow and searching, the air between them heating up.

Dean groaned when he heard the sound of his belt unbuckling and a warm hand wrapped around his dick, a thumb teasing the tip for too brief a moment. He held onto Cas and his balance.

“You didn’t flicker last time.”

“Last time you weren’t in the know,” he panted between every word, teeth bared. “It’s easier to keep a lid on.”

“So you were holding out on me?”

Dean tried to glare, which was difficult with Cas’ bedhead above him, his senses overwhelmed, and every aspect of his face in extreme focus, from the lines on his forehead to the plump lips to the tone of his skin and five o’clock shadow. Castiel squirmed in Dean’s arms, until he made contact with the ground and put his hands to either side of Dean’s face.

“Show me, Dean.”

A flutter of fear. The kind The Adversary would be proud of, if it wasn’t instilled in one of his legion. Dean lowered his eyes and on instinct, looked at the fire, finding strength. He spoke soft, but steeled his undercurrent.

“Demanding it won’t make it so, Cas.” 

A gentle kiss, which dissipated his building temper as quickly as he’d failed to notice it rising, and he almost caved. “It is not a demand,” Cas said. “I am not my father. Or my brother.”

Dean grimaced. “How about we don’t involve family members in this moment?”

Cas snorted a soft laugh. “Agreed.”

Dean searched his face for any signs of further pushing, but found none. A hand at his stomach steered him towards the large couch. It was in permanent bed-form, because he and his siblings had preferred sleeping here to the actual bedroom. As children, at least. A peculiar sentiment in the moment when Cas pushed him onto his back and leaned over, giving Dean seconds to adjust, before he closed the distance between them. 

Dean breathed in through the kiss, his tongue darting out and welcoming. He loosened up Castiel’s buttons and let nails carve a trail down his back, cheating by allowing his claws some leeway. Cas hissed into his mouth, hips rolling down into his and Dean instinctively made room, opening his legs, a warmth pooling in the pit of his being. The weight of Castiel on top of him felt grounding. He lost patience with the amount of plaid and fabric flapping every which way and manhandled the pair of them until there was decidedly less of it. Castiel’s hair stood on end after he got the shirt off him.

“Cas,” he sighed, when bare skin touched.

He wanted to draw him back in, but encountered resistance when he tugged and found Castiel’s hand on his chest, eyes roaming. Something had shifted. When he couldn’t say, but he didn’t remember conscious body studies previously. Unless perhaps when he’d been asleep. Which was just creepy. Maybe? He couldn’t think with Cas’ swirling-ink-in-water stormy eyes on him, seemingly trying to count every damn freckle. His eyes rested on the mark on his shoulder, blue eyes glittering in the dark.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Whose hand is that?”

Dean glanced at his shoulder. “I don’t remember. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Cas whispered, a touch of possessiveness in his voice. His eyes darkened, as he leaned closer. Dean watched him fold his hand over the mark and inhaled sharply when an electric current shot through him. Cas’ breath hitched and they sought each other’s eyes.

“What…” he breathed.

Cas shook his head, leaning over, lips an inch from his. “I don’t know.”

His heart hammering, Dean ran his hands up Cas’ sides, squeezing his fingers into his skin. Dean squirmed, urging Cas to pick up the pace. “Cas,” he repeated, voice thicker.

To marginal avail, when Castiel kissed him, deep and harsh, his lip hurt, and began a slow, blazing trail across his skin. Dean promised himself he’d map Cas later, this night or tomorrow or the next… his brain successfully regressed to its primal state, when Cas closed his hands around his hips, putting pressure on his hipbones. Dean’s legs fell wider and he arched up, in search of contact, when Cas broke the kiss and meandered his way down. 

Warm hands rested over his hipbones, a heated presence as they slid down to the insides of his legs and Cas licked a slow trail up his dick, before taking Dean in. Dean’s eyes squeezed shut and he dug his fingers into Cas’ shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath. Cas squeezed down on his hipbones in warning, when Dean tried to meet him too enthusiastically. For a while, time was a relative concept and sweat broke out over his skin, which seemed to be shattering around him. A deep sound of appreciation escaped Cas, as he released Dean with a wet sound and made his way back up. Dean scrunched up his nose, when Cas made to go in for a kiss. Catching on he planted heated kisses for a while, in search of spots that made him squirm. Dean turned his face into Cas’ neck, breathing warmth onto his skin like only a demon could, and smiled against his skin when Castiel whimpered.

“Dean… What’s that?”

“Creative use of the heat in the fiery pits of hell.”

“I thought those were meant as a punishment, in case people have pre-marital sex.”

“If it wasn’t obvious yet, we don’t give a shit about pre-marital sex, Cas. But I suppose it can be used as punishment?”

“I prefer what you just did,” Cas groaned into his neck.

Dean rolled his hips in reply and kissed Cas, chasing coherent thought from his mind. A seemingly endless moment in time was carved and Dean made good on his promise, pushing Cas back against the sheets. Even lost in his senses, something felt different and his form flickered more than he cared to admit as he mapped his way across Cas’ skin, finding ample proof of his lifestyle.

He never knew when he fully lost control over his form. 

When every inch of space between them was filled.

When coherence made way for sounds and panted nonsense.

When the pressure of Cas’ hands made him turn onto his stomach.

When Dean almost broke apart from hearing the need in Castiel’s pleas for closeness.

When Cas’ hands dug into his hips, as his tongue entered him and reduced him to a mess, moaning into the mattress.

When Cas entered him and leaned over, his breath warm in Dean’s neck, teeth grazing as he groaned his name.

When an arm wrapped around his chest, a hand over his throat and Cas’ name spilled off his lips in return.

When Cas relentlessly built up the pace, sensitive to Dean’s every moan and huff, teasing him to the brink and back.

When Cas was pounding into him and he begged for more in Infernal.

When Cas’ hand closed over his erection and the stars came down from the skies for both of them, Cas filling him up.

Cas breathed into his neck and slid sideways, pulling Dean along. It wasn’t until then that he felt Cas’ movements tug at _ his tail_. His tail, which was wrapped around Cas’ waist. Dean squirmed and tried to look at Cas, whose eyes were roaming up over Dean’s form to rest on his face. A inordinate amount of mirth in his blue eyes. A mild raising of his eyebrows.

“Can I touch it?” 

“Personal space, Cas.”

Cas gave him a dead-pan stare. “I think we’re well past that, Dean.”

The snap and crackle of the fire joined the slowly calming rushing of his own blood. With a sigh, Dean surrendered, when he felt Cas squeeze the tip of his tail, which twitched in response. They peeled apart, fighting with the mussed up blanket, and melted back together, the breeze cooling their skin. Dean wrapped his tail around their legs loosely.

The night enveloped them.


	10. I Spoke To God Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I may be somewhat fond of you in this form,” he said.
> 
> Dean’s face contorted into a valiant effort not to laugh. “Hell approves of all your kinks.”

He’d been lying like this for too long, arms folded, the weight of his head turning his arm numb from leaning on it. A glance outside revealed a tentatively awakening sky, still cloaked under the heavy blanket of night. Castiel felt like the view. Soft, mellow and peaceful. He’d gotten up to pee earlier and used the freedom to muck through the kitchen. To his joy, he’d found everything he needed for pancakes and/or eggs. Most likely ‘and’, because he was starving.

When he snuck back in bed, Dean rolled closer and nuzzled. A peculiar event even in Castiel’s life, when that gesture landed one of a pair of curled and twisting horns near his collar bone. They were wide at the base and their color reminded him of the darkest shade of blood. They nested in Dean’s sandy hair, close to his skull. Castiel resisted the urge to touch the endless ridges of tiny spikes on them, not wanting to wake Dean. Yet part of him was bouncing and would not be denied this chance. One of many, he realized. This was a morning of chances.

He scooted around until Dean squirmed and Castiel had access to his face. A tail loosely wrapped around his leg. The twinge of guilt was short-lived, when he planted a series of butterfly kisses on Dean’s face. A scrunched up nose in response. A soft moan. A huff and frown.

When he thought he saw movement behind those closed eyes, he kissed lips he’d previously called beyond human. He’d been right. “So do you miss it?” Castiel whispered.

Dean groaned through what sounded like a serious case of morning brain fog, turned into his chest and further hiding his face in the pillow. When Dean blindly tugged at him, Castiel obliged and cuddled closer. He nuzzled behind Dean’s ear, breathing in deep.

“In Hell, no one woke me up,” came the muffled protest.

“But in the house they did?”

“…”

“Well?”

“Yes, humans, even when former demons like my brother, are exceedingly bad at letting people sleep in. Charlie’s just… Charlie.”

“Siblings,” he sighed heavily. “Perhaps that’s because us humans are on a clock and don’t like to waste chances.”

“Satan take me. Not before breakfast. Coffee. Anything to make it bearable to be awake.”

Castiel’s heart twisted. “Early dawn breakfast?”

Something in his tone must have drawn Dean out. He turned his head and one green eye, in shocking contrast with his burgundy skin, opened. A patch of scales fanned out like a wing from below his eye to his jawline. Castiel’s breath escaped him at the sight and he slid his fingers through Dean’s hair, avoiding the horns with effort. Castiel wasn’t sure if Dean was aware of his current state of being, so he tried his hardest not to betray what he knew was an almost childlike curiosity. Obsession, Gabriel would say.

A smile crinkled the skin at Dean’s eyes. “Okay, maybe being awake right now is not the worst thing to be. But please tell me it’s not ass o’clock in the morning.”

Castiel sucked in air through his teeth in a mock ‘I am so sorry’ tone.

Dean groaned. “I don’t know about these early dawn breakfasts, man. They sound counterintuitive.”

“Maybe because you’ve never had one.”

“I cooked one for you, didn’t I?”

“That wasn’t exactly dawn though.”

The mattress heaved when Dean put his considerable strength and weight in motion, until he was on his back and pulled Castiel closer. Castiel’s chest became a pinball machine when both those impossibly green eyes focused on him, full force. There was something definitively against the laws of nature about a post-sex hedgehog-hair demon-Dean with the color scheme he had going for him. Surely? In itself a conundrum, that thought. When he splayed a hand on Castiel’s chest, Dean finally seemed to realize. He looked miffed.

“Ah, fuck me.”

“_Yes_.”

Dean blinked, his annoyance visibly dispelled, at the fervor behind Castiel’s words. “Morning to you too, Cas,” he smiled. 

Castiel didn’t quite know how to handle his relief when Dean’s demon form remained. He noted the tip of the tail flicking, like a cat’s.

“I may be somewhat fond of you in this form,” he said.

Dean’s face contorted into a valiant effort not to laugh. “Hell approves of all your kinks.”

“It’s not a kink,” Castiel protested. A pointed look made him roll his eyes. “Okay, maybe, but I’m fucking allowed.”

“That you are.”

“And I am starving, but I also do not want to leave this bed.”

Under his gaze, Dean grinned and stretched, the ripple of his muscles sending effects like water across the patches of scales on his body. The freckles were like constellations, begging to be rediscovered. Castiel always possessed an uncanny kind of focus, which was part of the reason he was so good at his job, but this was the first time it wasn’t zoning in on anything work-related. Even during their three days together, he hadn’t been this enthralled. 

He flicked his eyes from Dean’s face to his chest, following the sunlight treasure trail down. A flickering made him blink. He swallowed the protest, when Dean returned to his human form. He seemed to have been expecting one, when Dean looked over his shoulder at him. Dean leaned over and planted a gentle kiss, the kind that was reserved for… who exactly?

Castiel followed Dean to the kitchen and in the quiet of dawn, they cooked pancakes and eggs, brewed coffee and tea; the scents filled the cabin. They had breakfast outside on the wooden bench, while the world around them came to life and the sun made a slow ascent over the trees, her light dancing on the water of the babbling river, flowing at the side of the cottage.

“How long can we stay here?” Castiel asked around a syrupy finger.

Dean shrugged. “As long as we like, as far as I care.”

“What about Naomi and Michael?”

Dean rested unwavering eyes on him. “That’s up to you, isn’t it? As long as you don’t rush into anything stupid, I’m good here.”

“If I plan to do anything else stupid, I’ll let you know.” Castiel glared. “Don’t _ you _have responsibilities?” He looked at Dean, wanting to read something, unsure what he expected to find.

Dean looked away, squinting at the light, his face a carefully organized mask of ‘I can do as I please’. “As your guardian, I think I’m right where I need to be.”

Castiel frowned at his sticky hands and threw another furtive glance over at Dean. The green eyes looked him over, a mirroring frown there, and he was beginning to debate bringing up ‘being fucked senseless by your charge’ not being in Guardianship 101, when Dean sniffed and gave a shrug, as he took a sip from his coffee. “I play by many rules.”

Under the table, Dean reached over and entwined their legs. Castiel leaned his chin on his hand, ears pricked to listen with intent. A vision flickered in his mind’s eye for the briefest of moments. A set of green eyes and a demon outlined on the other side of The Empty.

“Not playing by this one, Cas.”

His heart sent his blood pulsing and his soul aglow.

* 

They stole away days.

After the first night, Dean called Sam to reassure him they had not been taken or killed, but refrained from divulging their location. It would not be a stretch for any of the Winchesters or chosen family to figure it out. Ignoring most of Sam’s questions, he tasked him with putting up angel wards in Castiel’s apartment. Within five minutes after the exchange, his phone buzzed and Dean rolled his eyes at Charlie’s text, which only contained SQUEE, but felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

“What are you smiling at?”

Cas walked out of the bedroom, wearing loose slacks and one of Dean’s old band shirts. His gaze was drawn to Cas’ sex-hair mess. With effort, he tried to control his exhale and not bowl Cas over into the couch bed. _ Again _.

He wiggled the phone. “Charlie is being a little smug.”

Cas huffed. “If she didn’t look so cute, I believe that would be her default setting.”

“I’ll make sure she knows you said that.”

“Maybe don’t. I said she looked cute, I didn’t say she _ was_.”

“What are you talking about? I think she’s adorable. All us Winchesters are.”

“I can’t really argue with that,” Cas smiled, shooting him a soft smile that belied many a thing from the past days. “Want a refill?” 

Holding out his empty mug, Dean watched Cas pour more coffee for both of them – a bemused sigh escaping him.

*

“Can you hand me the gardening fork?”

Castiel scanned the box of tools and hummed when he located it. Dean’s outstretched hand waited patiently. Both of them were squatting, bare feet in the grass, an array of herbs and plants in pots of various sizes and shapes around them. Despite working in the shade, Dean had chucked his t-shirt somewhere post-lunch. Quiche and a salad, though the latter had been at Castiel’s assurance that it would in fact _ not _ kill Dean. He insisted demons were allergic.

They’d done the food run together. As Baby was still at the Winchester home, Dean bamfed them as close to the nearest town center as he could and they walked the rest of the way. It was a strange walk. Meandering, taking it slow, not chasing someone. The air was clean, the sun bright. There wasn’t a tall building in sight, no city skyline. Dean laced his fingers with Castiel’s. They talked about what he and his siblings had gotten up to whenever they were here with Ash and Bobby. Castiel shared some fond but dubious memories that involved Gabriel. In the only shop in town they moved with an ease that suggested years of familiarity. At the cash register, they stood shoulder to shoulder, eyes flitting away and back like teenagers until the guy behind it noticed and chuckled. Helpless, Dean had flustered and smiled, seeking out Castiel’s eyes. Castiel couldn’t stop himself smiling back _ again _. He’d huffed and captured Dean’s lips in a quick kiss. There was something about a ruffled Dean..

They bickered less. Probably because there were no life-endangering situations at hand to fight about who went in first or whose plan was the dumbest. Dean seemed to have a tendency to do the opposite of whatever Castiel asked whenever they were hunting. Here, in this nameless place outside time, a side of Dean showed as soft as his pudge. One of the lovelier discoveries of the past days, much to Dean’s dismay. Another was the unspoken pact between them, side-stepping the world out there for a while.

As Castiel depotted the many herbs with care, he watched Dean’s hands work the garden soil. Slow, deliberate, deep gestures. Round fingertips, wide nails, kept short. Always a bit dirty from working on Baby, now dirtier with soil. Long fingers, strong hands. Several leather bracelets twisted around his wrist. The tendons worked under his sweaty skin. A heat coiled in the pit of his being at the memories the visual brought up. He knew how strong those hands were and at the same time that Dean held back. It didn’t take many words for Castiel to suspect Dean’s demon powers got in the way of complete surrender. There was a balance they were seeking, as if dancing among the moonlit clouds.

He trailed his gaze up Dean’s arms and pressed his lips together, then licked them. It was too warm to be outside... Perhaps he ought to suggest rehydration and returning to the shade of the cabin. His thoughts evaporated when he looked at Dean’s face. Lashes the color of sand, a light dusting contrasted against the angles of his freckled face. Focused to the extent the tip of his tongue protruded as he worked. Several smears of dirt on his face. 

The heat jumped to his chest and settled down as a soothing warmth, a familiar sensation ever since he realized it was tied to Dean’s presence in his life. Castiel wasn’t a fan of angels, but he had always believed in the intangible nature of the universe. To have it manifest in Dean made him wonder… if it was real enough, would it hold under the strain of reality? If he was worthy of holding on to this, whatever _ this _was exactly.

Castiel grimaced and felt a need to have himself checked for diabetes.

A hiss and curse snapped him back to attention. A trail of blood leaked down Dean’s hand. “What did you do?”

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

“Where have I heard those words before?” Castiel snapped. He pulled Dean’s hand to him.

Dean scowled at the treatment and made to twist his hand away, then let out a protest when Castiel tightened his grip on him. He eyed the wound and deemed it true enough. “It still needs to be cleaned.”

“I’m sure I can fight off an infection, if it comes to that.”

“Are you? For a demon, you get nicked quite easily.”

“It’s the meat suit that isn’t very sturdy. In my demon form, I’m fine.”

Castiel blinked a few times. “What a disgusting word.”

“What? _ Fine _?”

“That too. But no… Meat suit.”

Dean sucked his thumb, eyeing Castiel, and shrugged, nonplussed. After a few seconds of pointless nursing, he glared down at it, going a touch cross-eyed. “It’s what we call our… this,” he gestured at himself.

“How _ does _that work? Are you born like that?”

“Sort of. We become.. as it were.”

“Like baby Jesus became out of nowhere? How metaphysical.”

Dean cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips. “From human souls, Cas. When there is nothing left of us…”

“You were human once?”

“Yeah, I mean, we all were. Most of us remember jack-shit though. We’ve been in Hell for too long.”

“Huh… might have been nice to know you then.”

“I went to Hell. Maybe better you didn’t know me.” He winked, one side of his mouth crooked up and Castiel narrowed his eyes a touch when he changed the subject. “Come on, let’s get these babies in the earth.”

They dug fist-sized holes and put the herbs in, heaping and patting the soil around them. Cas wiped sweat from his forehead, annoyed by his t-shirt clinging to his back. “I am getting too warm.”

A delicate upturn of an eyebrow and Dean looked up at him through his lashes. Castiel blinked and tilted his head. “What?”

“You would be used to worse than this.”

“Never of my own free will,” Castiel smirked. “This is quite nice.”

Dean frowned, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I thought you chose the bounty life. Or did _ it choose you? _”

“Hilarious. I know you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”


	11. And She Sounded Just Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you have a lead?”
> 
> “I wouldn’t have come back if I didn’t, son.”
> 
> Dean nodded, then nodded again, rubbing his scalp with the palm of his hand. “Okay. Okay, then… We get Sam and we go, right? No, wait, we can’t take him. Seven hells. Bobby? Ash?”
> 
> “Not yet. Just you and me, Dean. We scout it out. This is our business. No one else’s.”
> 
> Except it is everyone’s. And Cas’, Dean thought. He held his tongue. “When do we leave?”

It was likely to everyone’s benefit The Initial Return of John Winchester happened over the phone and while Castiel was in the shower. True to form, his arrival was the mental and emotional equivalent of a hurricane. Dean found himself in the eye of it when his father spoke words whose impact he could never have predicted.

“Dad.”

“Dean. Where are you?”

“Time off,” Dean lied with the ease of demons. “You’re back?”

“I have a lead on the people who may have killed your mother.”

His ears were ringing and he closed his eyes against the bile-like surge of wrath. “Who?”

“An elite group of angels called _ The Seekers_. Bastards. They went rogue after Heaven fell and believe it’s their sacred duty to prevent The Adversary from taking over Earth.”

“Angels are supposed to protect Earth and its inhabitants anyway. What changed besides The Adversary?”

“_Earth_, not its inhabitants. They’re not fond of humans, it seems, but they basically decided all demons on Earth were a free for all. I believe your mother crossed their path.”

“A purification unit?” Dean grimaced, his guts turning. He knew the stories… What they were capable of. The thought that they got their hands on his mom. “Did they…?”

“We’d need to find them to know for sure.”

“Do you have a lead?”

“I wouldn’t have come back if I didn’t, son.”

Dean nodded, then nodded again, rubbing his scalp with the palm of his hand. “Okay. Okay, then… We get Sam and we go, right? No, wait, we can’t take him. Seven hells. Bobby? Ash?”

“Not yet. Just you and me, Dean. We scout it out. This is our business. No one else’s.”

Except it is everyone’s. And Cas’, Dean thought. He held his tongue. “When do we leave?” 

“I need to restock and talk to Bobby. We leave first thing in the morning, so you can pack your things and inform Ash.”

“Yeah, okay. Dad, you’re good?”

“Of course, Dean. Always. Get a move on.”

There would be time to ask questions on the ride to… wherever, he realized he didn’t even know as they hung up. He tried to breathe deep. One of those nonsense tricks Sam tried to teach him after he’d given up his demon bloodline. Sam called it an addiction, the wrath of The Adversary’s Legion. Even after the new world order settled, they – as former wrath demons – still felt the pull of The Adversary. On the daily. Which is why Sam made his decision to remove himself from that influence. One Dean sometimes envied, sometimes hated. Always accepted.

In the face of his mother’s fate… how ironic, as they were now primarily fate demons… His mind went hot-white with anger, his blood boiling. It had been a long time since he’d felt it this strongly. Dean snarled, dropped his form, threw the phone to pieces against the wall and began pacing, little flames licking at his heels.

“What the hell! Dean, are you okay?”

“Don’t,” he growled, turning on Cas, his anger coming off him in waves.

Castiel, a towel around his waist, froze, eyes wide. He hissed at the heat in the air, his hands shooting up to cover his heart, as if Dean was hurting him. “Dean! You’re putting shit on fire.”

Dean looked around him and saw the trail he was leaving. With effort, he reeled his powers back in and breathed out. He stomped down on the flames and looked to Cas. There was something in those blues eyes, a vigilance he’d never seen there before and guilt gripped his heart. “Cas.”

“Dean.” 

Dean noticed that his hands were shaking, but replied on automatic. “I’m fine, Cas. Dad got home from his hunting trip. We’ve been trying for so long and now…”

“Is he okay?”

“I think so. This is the first sign of life in forever. We… We used to call him. He just didn’t pick up.”

Despite the fear in his face, Cas reached over and entwined their fingers. “Your mother. Is she…?”

He tugged Cas closer to touch their foreheads. “He has a lead. We gotta go in the morning. See if we can sniff them out. Find out more, confirm his suspicions.”

“In the morning,” Cas nodded. Dean watched the gears start whirring in Cas’ mind.

He shook his head. “No way, you’re not joining.”

Cas snorted in dismissal. “Of course I am.”

“Cas, it’s a bunch of angels we’re going after. Some elite group of feathery fucks, called… What was it? _ The Seekers _. One of those sicko purification units.”

Castiel’s mouth moved like a fish’s for a bit. “A purification… a what? How?”

“Some rogue angels unit. Apparently post-Adversary, they decided to go out on their own and they’ve been targeting demons who chose to live on Earth. I guess? Dad was sketchy on the details. But if they got their hands on my mother... Cas.”

A warm hand landed on his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Dean’s mind narrowed to the sensations that came with being like this with Cas. A strong grounding presence, if ever Dean met one. Yet his anger was burning bright, volatile in nature at the best of times. The hum of it overpowered near-to everything else.

“I can help, Dean, you know I can. Sam has been teaching me a few tricks. I have angel bullets at home.”

Dean’s eyes flashed in annoyance. “When did that happen?”

“We’ve been texting. He told me about the angel warding he put up and left the bullets.”

“Dammit, Sammy. He promised me he wouldn’t.”

“But he has.”

“It’s demon business, Cas, family business.”

Dean was taken aback by the anger that flashed in Cas’ eyes.

“So suddenly you draw the demon card? It wasn’t a problem these past days, weeks even. It sure wasn’t a problem when you picked me up in that bar.”

“I picked you up? You were the one who’d been undressing me with his eyes all night.”

“My people skills _ are _ rusty, okay? They are downright rusty and bounty hunting doesn’t leave a lot of space for subtlety in that department.”

“Good thing I wasn’t looking for that.”

“So you admit you were looking.”

“We both were. Shut up, Cas.”

“I most certainly will not, Dean. Not when you’re being an assbutt.”

The word confused him enough for his temper to halt in its tracks. “A what?”

“An assbutt. I know I can’t force you to take me along. You’ll just bamf away, but don’t. Who knows what difference I can make?”

“I’m not putting you in harm’s way with supernatural fucks like angels, Cas. Not to mention…” Dean bit his lip. There was something he’d never taken into account until today. There was a side to his nature he did not want Cas to see.

“Not to mention what, Dean?”

“I need you to do one thing.”

One of Castiel’s eyebrows rose and his tone was a touch icy. “What’s that?”

“Just think of me when you need help, alright?”

“Dean, I managed without you just fine for years.”

“Don’t do that,” Dean grunted, inelegantly bonking his forehead into Cas’.

“Do what?” Castiel winced.

“That lone wolf soldier thing you’ve got going… Promise me you’ll send for me.”

“You mean, pray? Oh, the irony.”

Dean let out something between a moan and a guffaw. “Whatever you wanna fucking call it, Cas. Promise.”

Castiel chewed his lip for a bit, as they stood close. “Fine.”

“Don’t make me wrench it out of you.”

“_Fine_,” Castiel rolled his eyes. “I promise.” 

Suddenly Cas manhandled him into the wall, drawing a muffled surprised sound from Dean. The towel fell to the floor in the process. He cupped his hands around Dean’s face and Dean slid his down Cas’ back to cup his ass. Between harsh kisses that travelled from Dean’s lips to his jawline and the soft spot near his ear, he uttered an order. 

“You stay the fuck alive, Dean Winchester. You promise me that. I’ll call you back from wherever demons go if they die.”

Searching for some kind of footing, he resorted to the easiest one, faced with Cas' intensity. “It’s a bunch of angels, Cas. We’ve been at war for so long… I’m sure we can handle them.”

“Emotion clouds tactics. It doesn’t get more emotional than your mother.”

Dean’s chest constricted, something tugging him towards Cas, and he closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh clean scent of Cas, as he pulled him close, deepening their kiss.

* 

Acting wasn’t his strong suit. Castiel rested his forehead against the door of his apartment, where Dean had haphazardly dropped him off. They’d debated on where Castiel ought to go: remain at the cabin, join the Winchesters or return to his now angel-warded apartment. Castiel favoured the latter, mainly because he was worried about meeting John. If the man was anything like what he’d gleaned from Dean, he preferred to postpone that encounter. Not exclusively because he wasn’t sure how to behave himself around Dean in front of his father.

The return to his empty apartment so suddenly had him reeling from something akin to culture shock. Dean was on his way home, promises made on both ends, but he wasn’t sure if either of them would be able to keep them. It was a testament to Dean’s state of mind that he hadn’t seen through Castiel. 

There was anger residue, but he couldn’t tell if it was his or Dean’s.

The Seekers.

The fucking Seekers.

Angels?

Castiel sensed the worst motherfucker of all headaches come on and he tried to hold it at bay. Where was Gabriel when you needed him? He dug up his phone and scrolled through his list. Even though he’d deleted everyone, except for Gabriel, it didn’t matter. He knew all their phone numbers by heart. He could dial them in a heartbeat. It’s what a family of bounty hunters did. They lived in close quarters. There were little to no secrets. Boundaries. Add to that a healthy dose of shitty coping mechanisms, familial narcissism and abusive manipulators, and the cocktail of The Seekers was complete.

Except they now made it onto his radar as something else entirely and Castiel’s head nearly imploded as he tried to contemplate what Dean had told him.

Angels.

Naomi in Guardianship 101.

Bounty hunters with a skewed code. 

An elite angel purification unit.

He tried to reach beyond the probable. He’d done it before. Every time his loneliness got the better of him and he tried to think beyond it,towards a solution, but every time he ran into the same darkness. That giant chasm of The Empty inside him that seemed to feed off his loneliness. It loomed large once more, its waves closing in, ready to swipe him into their riptide.

Castiel wasn’t aware of his own breathing.

What did it make him?


	12. I Spoke To The Devil Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who are you talking to at night, son?”
> 
> Dean maintained his cool and stride without flinching. “I don’t talk in my sleep.”
> 
> “I know, because you’re not asleep when you do. Sometimes it sounds like prayer.”

The complete radio silence drove Castiel insane. No mercy hunting filled his days and nights. He tried to get a trail on Dean and his father, but failed. The occasional text was all that prevented him from believing the part of him that said Dean was dead. That The Seekers had gotten a hold of them. Their stolen days of peace had been an illusion and he didn’t deserve happiness.

Gabriel proved equally elusive. The first phone call had gone to voicemail. As had the second, third, fourth and every other one since, until apparently the battery died and the phone didn’t even ring anymore. Some of those messages had been short and clipped, others more in detail about why he was calling. This behaviour wasn’t unusual for Gabriel, but the timing was upsetting.

He needed Gabriel.

Or Dean back home.

Preferably both.

* 

It took only a few days for Dean to recall why he’d wanted out of the family business, or at least out from under his father’s proverbial wing. Regardless of their shared objective, his father was a difficult man to deal with, even in his prime Pre-Adversary. These were decidedly not the best of times. Driving endlessly. Sleeping in Baby. Sharing the worst meals he’d had in a while. He bore it, because he understood. At the darkest hour of the night he recognized it, but he shied away from those thoughts. 

John hated being dependent on Baby. As the family patriarch and the leader of the wrath legions, his wings had been clipped Post-Adversary. John hadn’t been in on The Adversary’s plans, but an example had to be made. Demons were an unruly lot, forever scheming and deceiving, but they weren’t supposed to turn on their own to the extent they were forced to seek asylum with Humanity. The Winchester family was delegated to Satan’s legions and demoted to fate demons, a blow John never recovered from. It took another few years before he vanished, in search of Mary.

Dean kept contact with Cas to a minimum, because that was a whole other snake pit to deal with once John was in the know. Short, night-time texts, which went unreplied until the next day. At least until he became aware of Cas… praying. One could hardly call it praying when it was directed at a demon. It was spotty, though, demon radio.

He was sure Cas didn’t realize some of these messages were getting through, because if he did, Dean suspected they wouldn’t have been as… raw. For the most part, they were shards of emotion, crystal-clear and sharp enough for Dean to cut himself on. All he could think to do was return the sentiment, as he lay on his back in Baby’s backseat, his jacket wrapped around him. He’d snuck one of Castiel’s shirts along, but its scent barely lingered.

* 

Castiel thought his heart would explode the moment he heard Dean’s reply. Not a reply, technically, because he could tell Dean wasn’t sure if it was working. They were repetitions of soothing reassurance that he was alive and kicking. Sometimes there was something in a language Castiel didn’t understand. What he caught most was the depths of Dean… and he relished in the intimacy of it. His chest glowed warm every time Dean’s voice cut through the din in his head.

They often came at night, these slivers of emotion. They told him to stay out of damned trouble, and if he didn’t to be prepared. One of them painted a picture of a different life, so different Castiel wondered if Dean was drunk or delirious. One of tended gardens and crackling fires and open windows. Castiel hadn’t cried in a long time, but did then. Warm trails running down the sides of his face into his hair, into the pillow, as he breathed in the night air, his palms pressed to his throbbing temples. As frequent as they came in, Dean’s soothing words became a barrier, which prevented him from being torn away by the riptide that was his mind. If The Empty begged for annihilation, Dean’s voice made his chest expand with a will to live.

* 

They were meandering their way towards an abandoned city. Even from this distance, there was a crispness to it, for all its years of obvious neglect. The radioactive levels had gone down sufficiently, at least for the likes of them. Dean’s skin tingled on occasion, but other than that they were  _ fine _ . It wasn’t safe for humans, which made it an excellent potential hide-out for a crew of rogue angels.

“Who are you talking to at night, son?”

Dean maintained his cool and stride without flinching. “I don’t talk in my sleep.”

“I know, because you’re not asleep when you do. Sometimes it sounds like prayer.”

“Come on, dad, prayer?”

“Only going by what I’m hearing. Who is this Cas?”

“Someone back home,” Dead supplied. “You’ll know when I let you know.”

John scowled. He’d never appreciated being out of the loop, but after Sammy’s choice, he’d learned that he couldn’t control his boys the way he wanted to. And Charlie, she was on a different level altogether. His children had changed alongside the new world order.

“It don’t make sense.”

Dean immediately knew and nodded. “Yeah… We should have picked up a trail by now, elite battle angels or not.”

“It’s been weeks. I’ve dealt with my share of angels, while I was away. This don’t make sense.”

“What do you suggest? They can’t be summoned like us.”

“They can, but we don’t have the tools. I have half a mind to burn everything to the ground to find them. If they’re earthbound like us, they have a home base.”

“You’ll also burn the family. We don’t know enough for certain. We barely recovered from The Adversary’s move…”

“We are wrath demons, Dean, it’s ours to burn and raze.”

Dean clenched his teeth, exhaling slow through his nose. “Not anymore.”

“Well, we should be. And if we catch these bastards, maybe we can reclaim some…”

The ground under their feet tremored.

“What the hell?”

He could sense the powers at work, before he saw them and recognised the makings of an elaborate demon trap, the sigils lighting up with a dull glow in the dark of night. There followed the sound of earth breaking apart. It was massive, encompassing various buildings. They were made in an old dialect, much older than he’d ever encountered before.

“I think we got close,” Dean muttered. 

He grabbed his father’s arm and tried, against better judgement, to slow the man down. He shoved him off.

“Hold. They’re close.”

“It won’t matter.”

The ground under their feet caved and along with two buildings, they went tumbling down. Dean’s wings refused to work, his father’s clipped ones broken outlines against the light of the moon. He reached for him and felt the fabric slip through his fingers, when they hit the ground and the world went dark.

* 

Castiel sat up panting, gripping at his chest, entangled in his sheets, when he felt his bond with Dean evaporate.


	13. He Swears He's Not To Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’re your kids. I am not.” 
> 
> Ash actually sneered. “That shifted the second Dean’s fate was tied to yours.”
> 
> “Fat lot of good that did him.”
> 
> Sam tilted his head, wiping his hair from his eyes, concern apparent. “How do you mean?”
> 
> “He’s out there and who knows what happened to him. It seems all I have done is screw up his life.”
> 
> “Pun intended, I’m sure,” Charlie smirked. “But it has nothing to do with you, Cas. It’s Dad’s…”

Rising from unconsciousness, Dean coughed up dust. The pressure of a crumbled building on him hurt, which it wasn’t supposed to. His horns ached and one of his wings was torn beyond demonic innate toughness. He tried to move, but couldn’t and the parts of him that were exposed were smoking like acid wounds. He made to call out for John, but his voice was out of commission. With effort, he maneuvered and started digging. Giving in to the pull of The Adversary, he heated up his core, turned his claws welding-white and broke the world around him to dust until it gave way.

He put his feelers out for John, but his senses shrank under the weight of something lingering. Was the trap still active? Something nagged at the fringes of his being, like a gnat. There was no way to tell how far down he was and he watched handful after handful of stone and soil heat and crumble between his fingers. He took small pleasures from the destructive act.

How long had he been out? What if John was dead? 

His thoughts turned to Cas, as his jaw clenched and he pushed himself onward. The Seekers. Cas’ sister. He shook his head as dust fell into his face, and he fluttered his lashes, spitting out a gob of dirt.

Could they be connected?

Cas. Human. Bounty hunter.

Asshole father.

Sadistic brother.

Bitch sister. Who sat in Guardianship 101.

Dean knew. He hadn’t blasted them out of Cas’ apartment. _ She _ had. Naomi. With a familiar sound of fluttering wings.

There had been too many slips in Cas’ words. Dean understood a broken life. He understood a past that just wouldn’t let up. It was a demon’s trade. It was the family business. Yet something about Cas’ single-mindedness…it didn’t add up. Leaving your family, only to dig yourself deeper into the same lifestyle.

Suppose he was one of them. An angel.

The glow in his chest pulsed. He groaned in pain, while he squeezed himself and his broken wings through a narrow space. He held still, resting his forehead against a piece of rock. He pushed on, both physically and mentally.

Suppose he was.

One of The Seekers.

Who John said killed Mary.

His breath became shallow and his chest hurt beyond the physical. He opened his eyes in the dark of his shallow grave, short of breath.

What if Cas killed her?

A vicious slap in the face, especially for a fate demon. His anger coiled dangerously and he punched at the rock above him. A sliver of light fell through and he repeated the gesture, his clawed hand breaking through into the open air. He turned his face towards the gust of fresh air. It cost him some more time to burn a hole big enough to maneuver himself out of it without doing more damage to his wings. He rose slow and deliberate, the dust shaking off his form as he planted his feet on the soil once more. Above him, the moon, but not the one they’d come in under. He looked about, sensing for his father and failed to catch his life sign.

He looked to the outline of the abandoned town and felt the barrier in place. There was no way in. There never had been. It had to be the right place. Why he was still alive, he didn’t know, but they had to move. He tentatively rolled his shoulders, wincing at the pain as he tucked his wings and returned to his battered, bruised human form. He cursed at the state of his clothing, wiped his face down and yelled out for his father.

“Dad?!”

It stayed silent. He called again and pricked his ears, reaching out with something akin to prayer on his lips. His heartbeat threatened to drown out everything else, as he stood, head slightly cocked.

The reply was faint, but enough. He started walking in its direction. John was further away from him than he’d expected and it took him a good while to zone in on his location. He started digging, burning the stone away. Eventually his father’s dirt-caked face came into view, the eyes thunderous and exhausted. His deep grey demon form was covered in a thick layer of dust. Dean clamped his hand around his lower arm and they got to their feet. John leaned his hands on his knees, wheezing and spat on the ground. His wings quivered, shaking off dirt, and vanished from sight.

“Those are some nasty tricks they’ve got up their sleeve.”

“We’re not getting in there without help.”

John grimaced as he rose to his full height. “I know. I can feel it too.”

“I’ve never seen or felt a demon trap like that before. What kind of angels are these?”

“Maybe they have an archangel.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at his father, as he patted the dust off the man. “Which one?”

“Raphael.”

“That’s it?”

“That won’t do?”

“You could have mentioned that sooner.”

“I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything right now. This is beyond anything we’ve seen.”

Dean chewed on his words. “Let’s get back home, Dad.”

He had to pay attention to how he moved, the pain flooding his nervous system, as they walked back to Baby. His form flickered several times to the point where even a silently fuming John caught on.

“You hurt?”

“It’s fine,” he grunted.

As he said it, he slid into Baby and his form slipped out of his grasp. “Fuck. Shit. Balls. Better hope we don’t run into anyone.” 

John, never much of an advocate for the human rules, shrugged. “What day is it?”

“I have no fucking clue. All I know is that ain’t the moon we rode in under.”

In unison, they took out their phones, only to find the batteries dead.

“Really? All of them?” Dean made a face. 

John rummaged in the glove compartment and cursed. “Can you bamf home?”

He checked in with himself, eyes closed. “Not right now. Not yet.”

John sighed. “Just get us on the road, son. When you can, I’ll bring Baby home.”

“We’re not splitting up.” 

Dean hit the gas. It was going to be a long drive home. Whatever might be at play, his compass pointed one way and one way only. Home. To Cas. He tried calling out to him for every mile of it. 

* 

The Winchester household had been in a state of alarm for the past three weeks. Castiel had been staying over at their place on and off, initially reluctant to step into the privacy of Dean’s bedroom, until he very much wasn’t. He’d slept there for the past week, juggling his bounty hunting and the search for John and Dean Winchester. Sleeping in a room that enveloped him in everything Dean soothed his mind.

Even with the combined efforts of Charlie, Ash, Raziel and Crowley, they were none the wiser. Not one of them was used to being reduced to the role of waiting spectator. Despite receiving the name of The Seekers from John, Bobby was unable to dig up much more than what Dean had told Castiel. They were a Post-Adversary unit with the stink of cloak and dagger tactics all over them. What sources there were seemed unable to agree on who its members were, though several insisted on at least one archangel among their ranks, possibly more, while others suggested more unholy alliances. Still others, mainly online sources, claimed they were nothing more than an exceptionally skillful human group of vigilantes.

“How is this _ possible_?” Charlie snapped. “We have tons of books that are crystal-clear about what’s what! This is all too Jack The Ripper.” She gestured at the rows upon rows of books in the family library.

Bobby re-stacked some of the books, giving the top one’s dusty cover another wipe. “Well, to be fair, half of these are outdated in this mess of a world. The lines got blurred over the past decades.”

“Then we need to update. Make new reference books and digitalize. The Queen does not approve.”

“You’re not in one of your games, Charlie.”

“The Queen is right though,” Castiel muttered, not looking up from the book he was studying. 

His focus was on one particular book Bobby had dug up. An obscure volume, which, despite all its creatures being nameless, bore disturbing similarities to the numbers and dynamics in his family. The ratio wasn’t one on one, but there was something about the descriptions that made him unwell. Two things held him back from voicing his thoughts out loud: the potential violent reaction from Dean’s demonic family, and the fact that, try as he might, he found no proof in his own memories. It was like scratching at a thick wall of ice. How could he offer up the possibility if he _ didn’t remember _?

His memories of The Seekers were vivid, painful, detailed. The combination of intensity and vague recollection that only comes from real experiences. The skewed childhood memories where life was simpler and you’re so convinced of a show you watched, lyrics you heard, shit you blame on your siblings. The devotion on his father’s face, his aunt’s dark moods. Gabriel was one of the realest people he’d ever known. How was it possible for all that to exist and yet to doubt himself to the point of unhinging his mind?

His eyes stung and he blinked, looked up and found Charlie beaming at him in approval. Castiel felt confused and looked to Sam, whose eyebrows shot up. “You confirmed her royalty. You’re her favorite now.”

“I always have my favorites,” Charlie winked. “I raise them to knighthood.”

“Of course,” Castiel smiled. “Does it come with lands or a castle?”

“Depends how this quest goes.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. “_Idjits_. There is no point in sitting around the table,” he said, slamming his hand on the books. “Y’all get back to work. We all know Crowley needs every able hand.”

Ash’s mild expression and raised eyebrows made Bobby clear his throat. He gestured at the siblings and Castiel. “You kids.”

Sam snorted and Charlie made a whipping sound. Castiel leaned back, folding his arms. He crossed the cape of 40 a few years ago and it had been a long time since anyone had referred to him as anything but a somewhat responsible adult. It was telling that Bobby included Castiel and his heart shuddered in the face of this undefinable Winchester tendency. An aching wistfulness bloomed in his chest and he cursed his needs.

“Why would you say that?” he blurted out.

“Say what?” Bobby asked, as he pulled his cap lower and started putting the books away.

“_They _’re your kids. I am not.” 

Ash actually sneered. “That shifted the second Dean’s fate was tied to yours.”

“Fat lot of good that did him.”

Sam tilted his head, wiping his hair from his eyes, concern apparent. “How do you mean?”

“He’s out there and who knows what happened to him. It seems all I have done is screw up his life.”

“Pun intended, I’m sure,” Charlie smirked. “But it has nothing to do with you, Cas. It’s Dad’s…”

“Fault,” Sam offered, when she faltered.

“We can assume they’re still alive,” Ash said. Castiel saw scrutiny in their face and realized he himself was making connections they were not. “What makes you think you had any bearing on Dean’s current situation?”

Castiel felt the reflexes of his bounty hunting skills kick in and sat unmoving under the weight of four sets of eyes. His brain fired at light speed as he considered the pros and cons of letting them in on his past. He wanted to reach out and trust them. Resolve was never an issue for Castiel. Whether it was resolve to give or to withhold, he knew he could. An old habit snuck up on him from the depths of his mind, unseen, unheard, insipid and he recoiled from trusting the Winchesters as if they were outsiders once more.

He shook his head, appalled at his own vehemence. When he spoke, he kept his tone neutral. “It is an old habit. I am used to people close to me getting hurt, usually because of me. Bounty hunters,” he added and shrugged. “If I were the suspicious sort, I might think it a curse.”

“Ridiculous,” Charlie scoffed. “I mean, you’re just a human. No offence.”

“None taken.”

“Now hold on a minute,” Bobby said. “Curses exist. We’ve got the whole supernatural lot out there, witches and warlocks wandering among you. Now _ most _ of us agreed to abide by the rules, but even the best of us slip up and few of us are _ the best _. Who’s to say you didn’t get cursed?”

Castiel frowned and shrugged again. “I don’t feel cursed.” As he spoke the words, it felt like a lie. There were often times when he felt cursed, but not in any malignant witchy shenanigans kind of way.

“_Duh_,” Charlie said with empathy. “That’s the point of a curse. You wouldn’t know. Sam!”

“Already on it,” Sam muttered, putting his phone to his ear.

“Who you calling?” Bobby asked.

“Dialing one of my former clients,” Sam replied. 

The way he said it sounded like he was in great pain. It took a long time, during which Sam tapped his foot with impatience and exhaled harshly through his nose. His face switched to open eagerness, when someone picked up. Honey trickled off his tone.

“Rowena, hi!”

Charlie shoved him and hissed, “Put her on speaker.”

“... afternoon, Samuel. What a pleasant surprise. I haven’t heard you in ages. How are you and beautiful wee Eileen?”

Castiel squinted. The woman’s voice danced like a bird’s song, albeit a bird with a heavy Scottish accent, sprinkled with a serious dose of sultry manipulation.

“We’re doing good. The house is nearly finished,” Sam smiled through pursed lips.

“Oh, you bought a house. Mark my words, you’re never finished with a house. If you want some exclusive artwork, let me know. And will we have the pitter-patter of little feet soon?”

Sam stared at the phone in horror and shook his head at his family’s united Raising Of The Eyebrows.

“You’ll know when I know,” he dodged. “Have you managed to settle in since the case?”

“Oh, Samuel, my kind always settles in with humans. It’s been our modus operandi ever since the beginning of time.”

He narrowed his eyes knowingly. “So you’re still practicing,” he said, putting a touch of amusement in his voice.

Without missing a heartbeat, Rowena giggled and continued. “Silly moose, of course I am. It’s in my blood. I cannot not practice magic, dear.”

Charlie giggled into her sleeve, as Castiel mouthed ‘moose’ at Sam, who shook his head in irritation. “Would you be willing to help us figure out if someone is cursed?”

A sound of interested approval came through the speaker. “A curse? How exciting. Tell me more. Make it worth my while.”

Sam huffed a sordid laugh. “It’s worth your while by definition, Rowena, because even though you still practice, you’re not supposed to and compared to the olden days, it’s less easy to slip through the nets. We wouldn’t have had to defend you if it weren’t.”

An annoyed clicking of a tongue followed. “Samuel, don’t be smug. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Admit it, my phone call brightens your day.”

“Is that a flirtation?” Castiel asked in a low voice, making Charlie laugh. Rolling his eyes, Sam gave him a mild shove.

Rowena sighed. “I must admit the idea of being allowed to study a poor cursed sod in the safe presence of my lawyer does pique my interest.”

“Could you make your way over tonight?”

“That urgent, is it?”

Sam waited it out.

“Oh, very well. Text me your address and I will be there shortly.”

“You will? Oh, great, thank you.” With a grateful sigh, Sam hung up and started texting.

Unwilling to state the obvious, but in need of confirmation, Castiel waited until he was done to ask. “Rowena is a witch?”

“Yes, we defended her a few years ago when she got caught manipulating the black market. Clearly she has not learned.”

“She didn’t exactly sound… _ reliable_.”

Charlie eyed him. “A relative term, especially in present company. But you’re right, she isn’t until she is.”

“She isn’t exactly good, but neither is she bad, like many of her kind,” Sam said, tucking his phone. “Some of what she gets up to is debatable, but in this case, her powers are useful.”

“Pragmatism. I approve,” Ash grinned with a glint to his eyes. “Maybe we should put her and Crowley in the same room, just for kicks.”

“Your Slytherin is showing,” Charlie said. “But I agree.”

“How about we focus on the issue at hand?” Sam suggested and raised an eyebrow at Ash. “Our brother’s charge might be cursed.”

Ash gave him a smile that made his form flicker to demon. “Having a bit of day.”

Castiel sighed. “I suppose it would be hypocritical of me to object to the help of one supernatural being, when I already have another’s.”

“You’re right,” Charlie smiled. “It would be.”

“Mind, best keep this to yourself. Dean doesn’t like her too much.”

“Neither will dad,” Charlie added. “And he never met the woman.”

Castiel felt there were too many unknown parameters piling up. That was never a good thing. “Oh, great. That sounds swell.”

A firm knock at the door.

“We do have a bell, right?” Bobby muttered.

“Old school. One of the oldest schools in history, I imagine,” Sam replied, as he made his way to the front door. “You guys get to the living room. She doesn’t need to see all these books.”

They trailed out of the library and down the stairs. Ash crowded close to him on the way.

“Your day is going to get a whole lot interesting from here on out, Castiel,” Ash nodded.

They settled down on the arm rest of the couch, the thought of returning to work clearly forgotten. Castiel had the unsettling feeling it was because Ash thought he knew something, or would learn something Castiel might not want them to.

When a petite woman with long locks of flame-like hair walked in, Castiel feared what would happen if they did.

“Oh, the whole family is here!” she exclaimed, tone bright. Clever eyes scanned the room. “All demons still, yes? Excellent.”

A big handbag landed on the table with a thud and she started unpacking. The main item was a big leather-bound book, some bits and pieces that were of little note alongside. Many, if not most occult items looked perfectly innocent out of context. She stood, one hand on a hip, and looked around.

“Except for… Where’s our beloved Dean? And Eileen?”

“Eileen is at home,” Sam supplied. “She held down the fort and is hopefully going to sleep soon. Dean… He’s out hunting.”

“Hmm.” She smiled and her darkly made-up eyes glittered when they bounced from Sam to Castiel. “You’re new. Who might you be, dearie?”

Castiel bristled and stood, raising to his full 6 foot length. “_Not _ dearie.”

Her eyebrows curved delicately and she glanced over her shoulder. “Bit rude, this one, Samuel.”

“He usually isn’t,” Sam replied. “And he’s the one who needs your help.” A not so subtle reminder, if ever Castiel got one.

She crossed her arms, long red nails contrasting with the dark fabric of her dress. “Mind your attitude then, _ dearie _.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but extended a hand to the woman. “Castiel. My name is Castiel. These good people are under the impression I might be cursed. That and my people skills are rusty.”

“Are they now?” She took his hand and whatever Castiel had been expecting didn’t happen. She felt like any other human. Warm to the touch. Normal.

“That’s what I keep using as an excuse,” he smiled with effort.

Her brow creased, as if she was reading something behind those words. She turned and patted the back of one of the chairs. “Have a seat, Castiel, and let me look at you.”

Castiel sat down, keeping an eye on her and the stuff on the table.

Charlie leaned on the table, close to Rowena. “Do you need anything, Red?”

“Only some salt, Little Red. And potentially your bathtub.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel asked.

She pursed her lips in a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re shy. You don’t look it.”

“I don’t look a lot of things. Still doesn’t mean I’m going to strip and get into a bathtub, just because you tell me to do so.”

“If you’re cursed, you’ll have to.”

“Then perhaps focus on checking whether I am cursed to begin with,” Castiel bit at her smugness.

She slammed the book open. Charlie, Bobby and Castiel leaned in, curiosity and/or suspicion apparent on their faces in various degrees. To his regret, he was unable to make anything of the language. The symbols looked familiar, but only in an ‘Wiccan revival’ kind of way. From the way Charlie and Bobby’s eyes were moving, he could tell they succeeded.

Charlie nodded. “Yeah, okay, it looks pretty basic.”

Rowena tilted her head at Charlie, as she squirted a viscous matter into her hands and rubbed her palms together. Castiel scrunched up his nose at the smell.

“Little Red, I will thank you for not using that word to refer to either me or any of my possessions.”

Charlie lifted both hands in supplication. “Oh! I’m sorry, I meant, to me.. I was expecting some crazy ritual with runic chants and whatnot, but it makes sense.”

Rowena’s eyes went to Bobby. “I told you before. She has a knack for this.”

“We’re aware.”

“It’s a waste of talent to not let her practice,” she muttered. “Now let’s have a look at you, shall we?”

Castiel looked at her, as she leaned closer and placed two hands on either side of his face, her expression intent for a few seconds until her eyes fluttered shut. Whatever she had rubbed on her palms did not stick to his skin, for which he was grateful.

She whispered a chant in a foreign language. Vaguely Castiel seemed to catch an inkling of some language he may have come into contact with over his years of bounty hunting, but nothing stuck. When she fell silent, he glanced at Charlie who shrugged and for a while nothing happened.

It started in his peripheral vision. Reality blurred for a few seconds, until a filter was lifted off his eyes. With it, a weight was lifted. Breath catching, Castiel smiled and wanted to look around him, but Rowena’s hands held him in place.

“Don’t,” she whispered. Except she wasn’t moving her lips. He heard her voice, soft and quiet, in his head.

He whispered back. “Why not? What did you do?”

“I… I only made contact with you. But it is like you.. Oh…”

“What is it?”

“I have never seen anything like it, but whatever it is… This isn’t right, lad. I have to step back out.”

Just like that, his vision returned to normal and Castiel looked into Rowena’s wide, green eyes. His head hurt when he was weighed down once more. Her hands lifted off his skin with a gentle kindness that hadn’t been there seconds ago.

“Oh, my wee darling, I don’t know who you pissed off in this or another lifetime, but there is something deeply wrong.”

“How do you mean?” Castiel leaned back, when the intensity of her gaze would not let up and, worse, the four other Winchesters crowded around him.

“So he _ is _ cursed?” Bobby asked.

“No, this is no curse. I’m not even sure it’s anything I can fix. How do you live this way?”

Castiel blinked and felt a tightness in his chest, nausea swirling in his stomach. He wanted to fire off questions, but held his tongue.

Ash stepped closer and dropped his human form, resting a clawed hand on the back of Castiel’s chair. “What way?”

“I don’t know what is going on in there, but you should not be sane.”

Castiel let rip a derisive snort. “Considering my life choices, I wouldn’t claim sanity.”

“Not like that, lad, I mean… your mind is unhinged. And that darkness. What is it?”

“Now hold on a hot minute here,” Bobby snapped. “Unhinged as in insane? We’ve known Castiel for a while. He…”

Rowena lifted a hand at Bobby. “You can claim what you will, what you’ve seen, what you think you know. He is not cursed, but something else is going on. I had to lift a veil to get to him.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel lied, when questioning and worried looks were shot his way. “I don’t know what she means. I mean, I’ve always been prone to mild melancholy…”

Charlie narrowed her eyes and pricked a finger in his chest. “Mild melancholy, huh? Is that why you thought that Dean’s predicament was tied to your very existence?”

“So we’re taking a witch’s word over mine?”

“We are taking a witch’s word over the idea that nothing is going on,” Sam interrupted. “And if something is going on with you, we need to figure it out. Rowena, was there any way to tell if it had to do with Dean?”

“Why would it… Remind me again where he is?”

“Out hunting, as we said,” Ash replied, their hand moving from the chair to Castiel’s shoulder.

He flinched, on instinct, and balked out of their grip. Turning on his heels, he put his palms out. “How about we keep some personal space.”

Ash’s demeanor shifted within seconds, their eyes flaring bright yellow and their wings expanding in the living room. “Sit down, Castiel.”

“Make me.”

Charlie stepped in front of Castiel and faced Ash, eyes wide, hands up. “Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing?”

“Getting answers. If the slightest chance exists Dean is in trouble, because of him, we need to know.”

“And we’re deadly efficient, but this is Cas we’re talking about.”

Through the tension, it took Castiel a second to register that _ his phone was ringing_. When his phone buzzed and flickered to life with the name ‘Dean’, Castiel picked up faster than he ever had before in his life, keeping his back to the exit. The relief he heard on the _ other _ side confused him tremendously.

“Cas, you’re alive!”

The reality of Dean being alive broke the tension of the room, and Castiel felt the Winchester siblings on either side of him. He looked for Ash, who was still in demon form, but no longer looked like he might throttle him any second. Relief flooded him.

“_I _’m alive?! You’re the one who’s been missing for three weeks! Dean, what happened?”

“…”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Castiel heard the hesitation in his voice. “I’m not used to people picking up on the first ring.”

Castiel’s gut twisted in empathy and he tried to find words, but Dean kept talking. “We stopped for gas, so I got a charger. Our phones died.”

“All of them? That sounds unusual.”

Dean huffed a laugh and Castiel smiled, wishing for all the world he was alone.

“Put him on speaker,” Charlie whispered.

He really wanted to disregard the request, but one look at Bobby and Ash made him reconsider. “Dean, I am putting you on speaker. Everyone is here. Well, more or less.”

“Oh, Cas, don’t…”

A barrage of emotions was fired at Dean, as Cas held the phone flat in his palm.

“Fuck’s sake,” came the muttered reply from the other end.

“Don’t you fuck’s sake us, boy! We’ve been worried sick!” Bobby barked. “Is your idjit of a father with you?”

“I am actually,” John’s deep voice floated through.

“You’re an idjit!”

“So I heard.”

“What the hell happened, John?”

“Massive demon trap,” came the curt reply. “We’ll get into the details when we’re home.”

“But you’re both okay?”

“Okay, enough. Wrap it up, Dean.”

The ease with which John hijacked the conversation appalled Castiel. He listened to the man walk away, the sound of his shoes crunching on gravel louder than it ought to be.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was softer and, family be damned, Castiel turned the speaker off again, as he stepped away from them.

“Dean,” he muttered back. 

He all but fled into the hallway and out the door, to the garden, inhaling the night air.

“Cas, I heard you.” There was a hitch in Dean’s voice that Castiel had not heard before.

The unease from seconds ago lingered, slithered around his hope like a predator, but the glow in his chest pulsed, its persistence stronger. “I heard you too. Are you hurt? You sound…”

“I’ve been better.”

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. “You must be running a fever too, if you admit that out loud.”

Dean grunted. “You’re killing me, Cas.”

Castiel glanced at the front door, the warm yellow light beckoning him inside to a place where, moments ago, matters could have gone tits up. Dean’s joke missed its mark by a mile. “I fucking hope not.”

“It’s a joke. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, Dean, but I think it might be better if you were here.”

Dean cleared his throat on the other side and chuckled. “We’re a long way from the cabin.”

“You have no idea. _ Dean_.”

“I’m here.”

“Come home.”

“I will. We’re on our way.”

Castiel smiled at his phone like an idiot for long seconds after Dean hung up.

“Is he alright?” Ash asked.

He turned on his heels, the reprieve gone in a flash. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because he said as much and Dean doesn’t say those things easily.”

Ash took the three steps down onto the grass. In the dark, the yellow gleam in their eyes was visible.

Castiel squared his shoulders. “Are you trying to read me with those demon eyes?”

A soft chuckle escaped them. “If only I could. It would make our jobs a whole lot easier.” They walked closer until they would have been shoulder to shoulder if Ash had been taller.

“I am sorry for what happened inside. It’s just… Dean… Sam… Charlie. They are very dear to us. The thought that you might be responsible…”

Castiel pressed his lips together, biting on the inside, for fear he might speak the truth, even if it was a skewed one. He didn’t know… couldn’t trust Ash. Not after that display. He wanted to return to the peace of the cabin, but he knew it was not an option.

“I would like your cooperation to find out what exactly Rowena discovered. For Dean’s sake.”

A sordid bout of laughter escaped Castiel at that. Those would be about the only words that could convince him to concede. Ash looked at him and Castiel found himself chewing his words, until he eventually nodded his consent.

“I will help, but I would like to return home for the night.”

“Of course. You’re our guest, not our prisoner. Rowena has stated she is willing to help us and Bobby and Charlie can lean in.”

Castiel nodded again.

“Good night, Ash.”

“Good night, Castiel.”


	14. Downward Descending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean, you’re not okay. And… inside… we… uh… your dad.”
> 
> “Oh, fuck me, those are not the words I wanna hear right now, Cas.”
> 
> A possessive glint flickered in Castiel’s eyes. “I will. Fervently. Just not now and not here.”

Dean brought Baby to a halt in front of the house and hoisted himself out with effort. His family piled into the hallway, relief etched in each of their faces. Charlie flung herself around John’s neck, her feet dangling off the floor as he held her. Dean underwent his share of painful hugs, biting back groans of discomfort. They had shit to do. And he needed to see Cas.

Charlie led most of them into the living room.

Sam kept a hand in the back of his neck after they hugged, holding Dean in place. “You look like shit.”

“Same as always,” he grimaced. “Where’s Cas?”

At this, his brother lowered his voice. “At his apartment. Dean, there was…”

“At the apartment?! Why? I thought he wanted to be here, away from where the damn angels could get to him. I gotta go, Sam. I have to check if he’s okay.”

“You can call him. He _ is _. We put up every damn ward we know of. You think we’d be like this if he wasn’t?”

Dean pulled his brother into another hug, cutting him off. “Sammy, I need to check on him, preferably without Dad.”

“I don’t think we’re gonna get that much leeway. But, Dean, get this…”

“Boys!”

They turned as one towards their father, Dean straightening up against the pain, Sam squaring his shoulders, chin tucked.

“Ash tells me you have a friend who’s been working the case from here? A bounty hunter of sorts.”

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, who sighed. “Uh… Yeah.”

“Get him over here.”

John went back inside.

“I was trying to tell you. We had Rowena over to check if Cas has been cursed.”

“Cursed? What the hell, Sammy?! I leave you alone with Cas for a few weeks and he gets hustled into an involuntary check-up by a witch? Whose idea was this?”

“His own. I mean, he said something about people in his surroundings always getting hurt. Maybe he meant it as a joke, but then Charlie and Bobby ran with it.”

“And you brought in Rowena.”

“What would you have had me do, Dean?”

“No wonder he went home. Red is an acquired taste.”

“Charlie likes her.”

“Which is the only reason I tolerate her. What happened?”

“Something _ is _wrong with Cas. Rowena found something. It isn’t a curse, but… there was something she can’t explain. She said that he ought to be insane.”

Dean made sure his sentiments on the matter were obvious in his face. “Bullshit. Cas isn’t insane.”

“No, she said he ought to be. That something was unhinged in his mind.”

“Does Dad know?”

“Not yet, judging by his behavior just now. Call him, Dean. We have to figure this out, Dad’s presence be damned. You’ve been running this family ever since he vanished.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, and notice the ease with which he waltzes back in.”

“I’ll back you up. So will Charlie.”

Dean pulled out his phone and fiddled with it, shaking his head, his jaw clenching. “Goddamnit, I wanna make a beeline back in time to that cabin and just be fucking Cas senseless.”

“Dude, spare me, you are totally a bottom. Charlie agrees.”

“Fuck both of you, Sammy,” Dean said. He pushed his brother’s grinning face away with a splayed hand, but couldn’t keep the grin out of his voice as he speed-dialed Cas.

*

It took little convincing, but Dean threw in a few debatable promises anyway, to get Cas to come over as soon as possible. The counter-offer to make his way to Cas was alluring... In the end, Dean resorted to hissing in pain, playing up his wounds, but not by much, and got Castiel to cave.

In a matter of half an hour Cas’ Jeep pulled up the driveway, blasting his mixtape. Dean smiled, waiting on the front steps, in demon form. With the combined effort of Charlie and Sam, they had convinced the so-called adults to let Dean welcome Cas alone. Which was ironic, as it was Dean who had returned from a long absence. John’s prying eyes during that debate were promising for what lay ahead.

Cutting the engine and music, Cas got out of the car, his trenchcoat almost catching between the door in his haste to get to Dean. His hair stood on end and his tie was twisted. It made Dean smile from ear to ear, even if he was hurting like a motherfucker. Those impossible blues lit up at seeing Dean and roamed over his demon form. Dean thought his heart would hammer out of his chest. With their reunion, he felt their bond stutter and expand, glowing brighter than before...

“Cas, you’re okay,” Dean sighed in relief.

He pushed himself up with effort and was rewarded with Cas’ arms around him. Whatever else he might have wanted to ask was silenced by Cas’ mouth claiming his. Eyebrows shooting up, Dean closed his eyes and sank into the sensations, allowing them to tune out his pain. He clutched on to the trench for a few seconds, then cupped Cas’ face, rubbing his thumbs over the stubble on his chin. The kiss was broken somewhat unceremoniously. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Castiel snapped, warmth in his tone softening the anger. His eyes searched Dean’s form, taking in the damage and his worry increased with every passing second. “I’m not the one whose wings are frayed. And what’s this?”

He poked into torn fabric and Dean hissed.

“What isn’t wrong with me?” Dean grinned through a pained huff, his eyes drawn to Cas’ lips. “Why’d you stop?”

He leaned in and captured them again, ignoring everything else that was swirling in his mind. Cas let out a muffled yelp that spurred Dean on. He twisted his fingers through Cas’ hair and tilted his head, letting his tongue slip out for a split second, asking… Cas’ hands were strong around him, holding him up more than he’d ever admit. He insisted, licked Cas’ lips, until he got a deep moan in response and was granted access. Dean let out a pleased hum, his body flush against Cas’. Oh, he wanted that beeline back in time bad. The thought barely crossed his mind, when he felt Castiel break off the kiss once more. He let out a disappointed whimper and their eyes met. Seeing Cas’ cheeks were flushed and looked as warm as he felt, his anger dissipated.

“Dean, you’re not okay. And… inside… we… uh… your dad.”

“Oh, fuck me, those are not the words I wanna hear right now, Cas.”

A possessive glint flickered in Castiel’s eyes. “I will. Fervently. Just not now and not here.”

Dean blinked and gave it some thought. “I don’t… I mean. Fuck’s sake! I’m getting whiplash from this. Cas, I don’t know how Dad’s gonna behave. We haven’t seen him in years and the road trip didn’t exactly fill me with hope as to his general disposition towards… well, anything.”

Dean felt Cas squeeze him a bit tighter, which hurt, but he shut it out when Cas buried his face in his neck, mumbling, “It will be alright. I’m sure.”

“You should work on that.”

“On what?”

“Lying.”

“I can lie just fine, Dean,” Cas huffed, reappearing. “I really believe it will be alright.”

“Tell me that again after you’ve met dad. Also, a curse, Cas? Really? How was that a good idea to suggest?”

Castiel had the decency to look uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out. It’s just… you know what my family’s like. And even away from them, I’m still a mess. You have to admit that reeks of a curse.”

“Sam said Rowena didn’t find a curse.”

“She found something else. Supposedly.”

“Do you believe her?”

Cas made a face at Dean, squinting. “Cursed. Broken. Call it what you will. I’m damaged, Dean. With or without my family. Who wants that in their life?”

The self-loathing was only the veneer over the loneliness below. Growing up, Dean had been lonely, even when he was almost never alone. The expectations that divided him from Sam and Charlie, that spurred him on to please their father were as isolating as anything. His heart reached out for Castiel and he swore he felt the glow in his chest pulse in sync with their hearts. Dean landed a hand on the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together. “I’d rather have you, cursed or not.”

The front door creaked open and Charlie poked her head out. “Dad asked me to check what was keeping you two. I think it’s costing everyone a lot of effort not to ask if you’re making out like two teenagers.”

“By everyone, you mean just you, right?” Castiel smiled.

“Maybe. I think Sam’s struggling too. Come on, bozos.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grunted.

Much to his regret, he needed to lean on Cas to make his way inside. Maybe it was the prospect of facing his dad, exploring the reality of Cas’ curse – whatever the fuck that was – or the weeks past catching up with him at a rapid pace. By the time they made it into the living room, Dean was doubled over in pain. Under the watchful eyes of the whole family, Castiel put him down on the couch.

“Can you tuck your wings?”

He gave a mute nod, eyes squeezed shut. They fluttered back open when he felt hands explore his body, over _ and under _the fabric of his torn clothes. Gentle, strong, insistent, as if no one else was in the room. He stared at Cas’ face, a warmth spreading through his body that was decidedly not sexual. A fever then. The room was too full. He knew it was, he knew this would go wrong. Anger rising, he glared daggers at everyone as best he could.

“Can most, if not all of you just fuck off already?”

“Dean’s right,” Sam said. “This can wait.”

“It shouldn’t,” John protested. “We found the right place. A plan must be made.”

Bobby stood behind the couch, looking down at Dean. His hairy hand came down to rest against Dean’s forehead. “A plan can be made. Tomorrow. Or if you insist, _ we _ can start planning already.” He gestured at himself, Ash and Bobby.

Charlie walked to the cabinet and started pulling out healing supplies. “I’m with Bobby and Sam.”

Dean watched incredulity and anger fight for dominance in his father. Before he could explode, Bobby gripped him by the elbow and they stood in stalemate for a few seconds. During the exchanges, Cas’ hands never once left him. When his father made to turn away, Dean released the breath he’d been holding, part relief, part pain and watched empathy ripple over Cas’ beautiful face.

“Dean, this wound… The Seekers hunt with uncanny tools. This needs to be healed. Sit still. Let me touch it.”

Dean tried to warn Cas with a look, when he felt John’s reaction to those words.


	15. Falling Further

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean panted, voice low and soft in his ear. “Cas, tell me the truth.”
> 
> “I would if I could.”

Dean batted away his hands, a warning in his eyes, which Castiel wasn’t sure how to read. The next second, he felt John’s eyes zone in on him like a homing device. When he spoke, Castiel knew subtlety was not his modus operandi. 

“What do you know of The Seekers?”

Castiel kept his eyes on Dean. “I have heard of them. They are a group of bounty hunters…”

“They are a group of angels,” John interrupted. He walked over to them, leaning over Castiel, who tried to focus on Dean’s wounds. “Did you tell him?”

“I may have mentioned the name,” Dean grimaced.

“He’s been praying to you,” John interjected. “At night. Did you know?”

Castiel kept still, sensing a single-minded anger in John that reminded him of Michael. It made sense, for both him and Dean to have experienced something of that volatile nature. Castiel hadn’t expected to find Dean or Sam or Charlie. There was a sense of home he’d never thought possible. The ease with which Dean had accepted him seconds ago, outside the front door, still had his mind reeling. It was also why he failed to keep the truth from his face when John asked him that question.

“You heard him.”

“I imagine it’s the guardian bond,” Castiel offered.

“Or it’s something more. There is a reason they give phones to their charges. Yes, I’m aware. Ash isn’t the only one with ties to Heaven. Normally, they rely on phones. So what’s it mean that you two can hear each other across the continent, huh?”

From the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Bobby approach John. “John, it might be time to step back.”

“You were one of them,” John said, voice soft and accusing. “Or you know them. Did you warn them we were coming?”

“I didn’t,” Castiel bit. In that same moment, he remembered the messages he’d left Gabriel. If Michael had heard those instead of Gabe…

“You’re one of them,” John repeated. Castiel saw the fear in Dean’s eyes a split second before John dropped his human form and his clawed hand clamped down on his throat, pulling him up. “Show your form, angel.”

Castiel’s skin burned under the touch of John Winchester’s demon form. His back arched as he reeled up under the pain. “I am not an angel! Now let go.”

He struggled, but failed to shake him off and in that moment, Castiel understood the warning in Dean’s eyes. The only reason he hadn’t had any trouble with angels or demons was because he’d never had to confront one on his own, head on. There was no escaping this. Under the heated pressure of John’s hand, his mind threatened to shatter. His eyes rolled back. For a few suspended moments in time, he revisited. Michael. Raphael. Gabriel. Metatron. Naomi. His dad. His aunt. Their hunts together. There was a blind spot. Something he strained to see, but never could. 

His head throbbed and he wanted to keel over into The Empty. The part he could never see past. Was scared to. The part that would wipe away everything.

The pressure lifted in an instant and his vision returned to him. Dean stood between him and John, shaking on his bow legs, frayed wings unfurled. Panting, a hand to his throat, Castiel reached out and rested his other hand between those wings. Dean shivered, but roared at his father.

“Back off! And don’t even think of pushing past me. I will deck you.” 

“How dare you, boy?! He is one of them! I am the…”

Dean’s next words were spoken lower, harsher. “You are not. I am.”

John’s eyes widened, nostrils flaring and he was lost for words.

Immediately Dean’s countenance changed. He raised his hands, palms out. “Even if you’re right, dad, he’s not like them. I met them…”

“They were here? How did you not see their true nature?”

“Not here. His place. And it’s exactly the reason why I’m not sure you’re right. I saw his brother and sister, Michael and Naomi. She was in my guardianship class… I didn’t register her down here as an angel. So we should probably ask some more questions before we go in guns blazing.”

“You sound like Sam.”

“He’s clever, our Sammy.” Dean shot his brother a smile.

The glint in John’s eyes as he looked at Castiel promised little good, but he backed away, dropping his demon form and without another word walked out the room. Bobby and Ash followed in his wake. Dean’s breath became shallow and he flicked his wings away, as he turned and almost fell. Castiel caught him, throwing one of his arms around his neck for support.

Dean panted, voice low and soft in his ear. “Cas, tell me the truth.”

“I would if I could.”

“It’s easy enough. Are you or are you not part of an elite angel family of douchebags who might have killed my mother?”

“I am definitely part of a family of douchebags… but I swear, I have no idea if we’re angels or not. What you told me about Naomi confuses me deeply and … I’ve been wracking my brain about it, but it hurts?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“No, I mean it hurts. Physically… there are memories, but they seem tilted, as if they’ve been pulled through a filter. Rowena expressed a similar sentiment. And every time I try to push, to think further, it hurts. My head explodes. Sit still.”

“I am sitting still.”

“You’re squirming.”

“Well, your fingers are in my wound. I mean…”

“I need to take your temperature.”

Dean batted away the instrument. “Alright, enough. I’m a demon, Cas, we’re blazing hot.” 

Castiel shot him a humouring smile.

“You two are annoyingly adorable,” Charlie said. She plonked down a bowl of warm water, a tincture and bandages. “Shall I let you do the honors then?”

“If you wouldn’t mind?” Castiel smiled at her.

“I’ll supervise. It’s not a Queen’s job anyway.”

“Charlie,” Sam hissed. “Just leave them be. I mean…” He spread his big hands in an obvious ‘duh’ gesture. “We have no business here and we might need to ensure Dad keeps his distance.”

“But…”

“Now!”

“Fine!” She huffed and stood. The siblings bickered as they left the room, leaving an uncanny silence behind.

“Lie on your back.”

Dean accommodated Castiel tending his wounds, lying back on the couch, repeating the last bits of conversations in his head. At regular intervals, the sting of his wounds interrupted his thoughts, but the care with which Cas tended to him was unprecedented, which was saying something. He’d been through his share of wounds, but there was something about how Castiel treated his body. Dean tried his best to focus on the matter at hand, which, now that everyone else was out of the room, proved easier and harder at the same time.

Knowing what he knew about what Sam and so many others had done in the wake of The Adversary refugees influx, he wondered.

“Cas, is it possible your memory was wiped?”

Castiel frowned, pressing the tincture on an open wound. “What? No.”

Dean hissed, but talked around it. “Think about it. Maybe you were part of them. Maybe you wanted out. Why you’d still be a bounty hunter is beyond me, but as far as reputation goes, angels aren’t the most honest bunch. We stick closer to our contracts than you guys do.”

“Don’t shove me in with that lot. They’re useless, dogmatic, feathery idiots. As long as I can remember, I’ve never been fond of them.”

“Maybe they fucked with your head. Maybe you had your memory wiped to try and get that normal life you’ve been talking about.”

“Then why not wipe all of it? Why the bounty hunters?”

“Well, I imagine you’d need to replace one set of reality with a credible other set of reality. If you were part of The Seekers, they can’t reset the memory to… oh, say, a family of child caretakers. Right?”

“I figure if you can mess with someone’s mind, you can rebuild all of it. Granted, it doesn’t sound entirely beyond the realm of possibilities.”

“If anything, we know there’s a shitload of realms out there…”

“If you’re entertaining the notion… You just lied to your dad for me.”

Dean gave a shrug. “And?”

Overwhelmed by the realisation, Castiel looked like he was sick to his stomach and leaned his forehead on his hands, which covered one of Dean’s wounds. 

“Cas, whatever you’re doing, stop. You look like you might puke and I’m in no state to clean that up. Fucking pale as a sheet. Look, even if you’re one of them, you’re not. I know you. Look at me… we’ve seen what they can do.”

“I was trying to… see. You’ve seen fuck all if my memories are anything to go by.”

“They do not define you, alright?”

“But if I am… Dean, what if we killed your mother?” Castiel looked at him, wide-eyed. 

Dean tried to keep breathing, but it became harder. “You didn’t. I know you didn’t.”

“Just because you say it doesn’t make it true.”

“Look, this is between us, Cas. No one else needs to know, not even Sam and Charlie. Dad planted the idea anyway, but we’ll just… You keep saying your head hurts when you try to think of it. That ain’t normal. Work with me on this.”

“I’ve always tried to convince myself I’m normal, Dean. This… This means I was right all along.”

“Not fifteen minutes ago, you said you were damaged.”

“I am, but you don’t want that to define you! I am more than that!”

Dean’s hand shot out, cupping Cas’ cheek, his thumb caressing his cheek. “You are so much more than that, Cas. But maybe it’s something we need to understand for us to work with it. Around it. If that makes sense.”

Castiel leaned into Dean’s hand. “Maybe.” He planted a kiss on Dean’s wrist, his tongue darting out to lick his skin. “You need a shower.”

“You didn’t need to lick me to know that.”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose in a slow arch. “Need is subjective.”

“Yeah, keep looking at me like that and you’ll see how fast we can heal.”

“It should be decent motivation, if anything. How do you feel?”

“Like a building or two landed on me, which is actually what happened. Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be fine.”

Castiel glowered and stood up. “That’s it. I’m taking you to your room.”

“Probably for the best,” Sam said, as he walked back in. “Dad’s in a mood. It’s like he never left.”

“How goes the planning?”

“Currently Charlie’s putting up a fight over Cas. It needs to happen, before he can move past it.” Sam gave an annoyed shrug.

“Interesting dynamic to observe, I’m sure,” Dean quipped, while Cas helped him up. “Right, Cas?”

Wordless, Cas ran a hand over his throat. Dean swallowed hard when he saw John had left a burn mark. Sam’s face expressed guilt. He gave his brother a squeeze on the shoulder as they walked past him.

“Thanks, Sammy. I owe you one.”

* 

“Cas, just let me… Will you just lie down?!” Dean’s green eyes were golden in the light of the bedside lamp.

“It’s just a burn. Get off.” He pushed away the cotton wool with disinfectant Dean was hovering around him.

“In a minute, after we take care of this.”

Castiel giggled. At the stupid pun, at the fact that Dean – in his current state – was trying to get him to cooperate and failing, at the fact that they were entertaining the notion of him being an angel and still interacting this way. At the prospect of sex with Dean. At his life in general.

“You need the help more.”

The strength behind the hand that pushed Castiel down onto the side of the bed reeked of demon power and he glared at Dean. Dean rolled his eyes and gave a dismissive shake of his head. 

“You tended my wounds. My system will do the rest. Yours not so much. Now how about you submit?”

Leaning back on his hands, Castiel lifted his chin in a defiant gesture and allowed Dean access. He spread his legs to accommodate him, holding his eyes. Dean’s cocky grin made him smile, but the sentiment dissipated when the sting of the disinfectant kicked in. A solemnity slipped into Dean’s eyes and his focus shifted to tending to Castiel, the tip of his tongue protruding from his lips. They held eye contact for a while, Dean hovering over him, until he licked his lips and stood up.

He wiggled his stained fingers and slipped out to the bathroom. A few minutes later, Castiel heard the sound of a shower running. Castiel regretted not being under the gentle care of those hands longer. Downstairs, the last of the conversation faded out and the silence of night fell over the Winchester household. He leaned his elbows on his knees, letting out a long sigh, the kind that relaxed the shoulders and unknotted the vertebrae one by one. He wasn’t aware of how long he sat like that, just breathing and being, until Dean’s voice met him.

“Cas.”

His eyes refocused and he had trouble keeping a straight face. Freshly showered, Dean was dressed in a black t-shirt and loose slacks, his hair doing its best hedgehog imitation. Something in his expression made Dean’s dimples come out. Face softening, Castiel straightened up and gestured him over. Dean obliged, his socks soft on the floor. As soon as he was within reach, Castiel folded three fingers behind the waistline of his slacks and tugged him into his lap, Dean’s legs straddling him. His hands were on either side of his face. Their lips found each other, Castiel’s senses tingled as he slid his hands up Dean’s sides. Castiel wanted to sink deep into the sensations, into Dean. There was a grind to Dean’s hips that took his breath away and when he spoke, they were panted words between rapidly heated kisses.

“Dean. You should probably get some rest.”

Dean chuckled into his mouth, breath hot, lips wet. “No rest for the wicked, Cas, you should know that.”

A roll of his hips and a demon push forced Castiel to lie down on his back. He rested his hands on Dean’s stomach, gently pushing his fingertips into the softness. He let one hand slide down over Dean’s groin, looking to provoke sounds, as he took in the sight above him. To have Dean back, safe and sound, his heart might give out.

“Seize the day, is that it?” Castiel muttered. The next words slipped out before he could stop himself. “Even with a potential angel?”

For a split second, Dean looked pained, but Castiel wasn’t sure at what and he didn’t get the time to ask. Dean leaned over, crowding his vision, arms on either side of Castiel, lips an inch apart. Castiel saw his pupils blown wide, could taste his breath on his tongue and felt the glow pulsing in his chest. Something insistent and intense that refused to be pushed away.

“Exactly,” Dean exhaled, his breath a touch shaky, despite the bravado. 

Castiel let out an almost mewl, which he’d prefer to deny, his chest expanding at the fire blazing in Dean’s eyes, the unwavering tone in his voice. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, as he responded to Castiel’s touch, lips parted enough for Castiel to see the tip of his tongue push against his teeth. He dipped his hands below Dean’s waistband, teasing with every gesture, and revelled when Dean let rip the first of many moans he intended to draw out. He snatched one hand out, burying it in Dean’s hair and pulled him down into a deep kiss, lapping up his flavour. Their muffled groans broke the silence in the room.

“Dean,” he snarled and was aware it almost sounded like an expletive. “Clothes.”

With the fervour of the converted, Dean started stripping. Castiel pressed his hands into Dean’s thighs, taking in the view, but when he made to undo his own shirt, Dean pushed away his hands. “Hands on me, Cas.. I want your hands on me.”

“Any second, but get these clothes off me.”

Dean obliged by ripping his shirt open and sent buttons flying across the bed and floor. They struggled to remain within kissing distance while taking their pants and underwear off. Dean cursed when his sock removal almost tripped him up. Castiel laughed, sensing the dynamic heaving like waves and he wasn’t sure how he preferred it in this moment. When Dean leaned over him and blocked out the world with his eyes, his lips, his tongue, his body, and, for mere blessed moments, his wings, Castiel groaned into the kiss, pulling Dean as close as he could, their erections grinding together. He sensed Dean’s gentle care whenever he ventured near Castiel’s burned throat, the sting of it setting off mixed signals.

There were more instances where he felt Dean give into his demon powers. A nudge that pushed his legs wider. A hand that pinned his wrist down stronger. The tension in his muscles as he devoured Castiel top to bottom. His head thrown back against the pillow, Castiel huffed under Dean’s ministrations, his tongue and teeth tracking every inch of skin. When Dean wrapped a hand around the base of his erection and circled his tongue around the tip, Castiel bucked into Dean’s mouth. A burning sensation registered when Dean pushed him back by the hip bones. Were those his… hands?

“Dean,” he hissed. “Mark…” He caught himself.

He looked down and his insides swirled at seeing the greedy hunger in Dean’s eyes. Hooking his arms under Castiel’s legs, he planted his palms on his skin and Castiel could  _ see _ his hands glow like the orange on a cigarette. Where John’s touch had hurt, Dean’s set his blood on fire. He let out a long, moan. “Yesssss…”

Through the haze, Castiel moved his legs, in search of Dean’s erection. The groan he got in reply had him smiling through his moans. Dean lost focus, let go of him, and rested his forehead against Castiel’s abdomen. Castiel’s brain imploded when he heard the gasped request.

“Cas… Cas, fuck me, Cas.”

“Dean…  _ Yes _ .” Castiel dug his fingers into Dean’s hair to pull him up into a kiss, using his limbs to push Dean up and over onto his back. He watched him fall backwards.

Dean bounced back against the mattress and pillow, his face a mixture of eagerness and surprise, then settled, as he licked his lips, his eyes roaming from Castiel’s erection over his stomach to his chest and landed on his face. Castiel’s eyes flicked to the tattoo on his collar bone before searching his gaze. Their eyes held. Dean’s gaze darkened. Despite his pleas, Castiel saw the mutiny bubbling beneath the surface and he couldn’t help but want to see more of it. The thought of being denied this chance if Dean hadn’t returned only fueled those fires.

With a subtle tilting of Castiel’s eyebrow, Dean eventually shuddered and opened his legs. Holding Castiel captive with his eyes, Dean reached over to the bedside table and got out a bottle of lube. Castiel’s breath caught and he watched with rapt attention, as Dean squeezed some into his palm and curled his arm around his ass, sliding one slick finger in.

Castiel lifted him by the hips, using his thighs to help support Dean. He drank in the view as Dean fucked down on his fingers, sliding a second and third in while time slipped out of their grasp. Breathing faster, Castiel squeezed lube into his own hand and stroked himself, slow and deliberate. He heard his name fall from Dean’s lips over and over, mixed with exclamations in his demon tongue, which made perfect sense to Castiel even if he didn’t understand a word of it. Through all this, he watched in delight as Dean flickered in and out of his demon form.

When he feared he might explode with need and Dean’s eyes opened, heavy-lidded, lost between insanity and complete surrender and perhaps a touch of something Castiel was scared to name, he leaned over to capture Dean’s lips in a kiss. Dean whimpered and tugged at Castiel in a way that left nothing open to interpretation. Tongue plunged deep into Dean’s mouth, he moved in sync with him, until they lined up. Pushing past the initial resistance, Castiel slid into him, a low, drawn out sound humming between them as his focus narrowed. The glow pulsing in his chest was something beyond heartbeats and rushing blood, and he tilted into the sensation, the bond with Dean.

Dean’s arms came around him and mussed through his hair. Castiel ground into Dean, drawing whimpers from him and wasted no time setting a pace, Dean’s encouragements spurring him on. They chased the stars, no space left between them, their mouths locked in one long kiss, sweat slick on their skin, arms circled around, Dean’s legs locked behind his back. Dean came between them, his semen warm and he held his green eyes until his own orgasm hit, Dean’s name spilling off his lips onto his. Panting, Castiel slid onto his side, dragging Dean with him, his lips pressed to his sweaty forehead.

“Cas,” Dean breathed into his neck, voice hoarse. “Cas… I love you, Cas.”

Trying to catch his breath, Castiel opened his eyes, only to find Dean’s closed, a frown marring his forehead. He wanted to ask  _ why _ , but seeing the frown on his face made him side-step his crippling self-doubt, for Dean’s sake. He put a hand to his cheek, a thumb caressing his freckled cheekbone, and he planted a soft kiss on his mouth. Dean refused to open his eyes, so he pressed another, more insistent one on those swollen lips. He let a soft growl go, when Dean shook his head.

“Nu-uh.”

“ _ Dean _ .”

Reluctant, Dean’s eyes fluttered open, a guardedness there that twisted Castiel’s guts. He wasn’t sure he understood why it was there, all of a sudden, but he wanted it gone. He needed Dean’s eyes to shine with that devil-may-care, you don’t tell me what to do attitude. He needed that forehead smooth and showered in sunlight. He needed those lips smiling, as they talked about music and food and gardening and open windows and crackling fires.

So he reached past The Empty.

“I love you, Dean.”

* 

It took less than 48 hours before they agreed it would be better for Castiel to return to his apartment, at least until further notice. John’s presence was… undeniable. Sam was able to flee home to Eileen, and Bobby and Ash had their own house. Which left Dean and Charlie to take the brunt of John’s frustrations, as he juggled the fallout of his decisions and the fact that everyone, including his brothers-in-arms, looked to Dean as the patriarch. The idea that they were housing an angel pushed him over the edge. To the man’s credit, he made no point of Dean and Castiel sharing a bed. His priority lay with the possibility that Castiel was part of the elite angel unit that killed Mary.

They stood outside, packing some, but certainly not all of Castiel’s stuff in the Jeep. Dean was leaning against the driver’s door, arms crossed, a defiant expression on his face. Castiel’s chest expanded, seeing him like this in the sunlight and tried to erase the scowl with a kiss. When Dean pulled him in closer, he pushed his nose into his neck, inhaling the scent of his shower soap, coffee and leather.

“Why don’t you join me?”

“And leave Charlie alone with dad?” Dean shook his head minutely. “Nah, not an option.”

“What will you do?”

“We need to nail down a plan to get into that town. Hopefully with the combined minds at our disposal, we’ll get somewhere.”

“Keep me in the loop. I hate not knowing.”

“Not knowing seems to be a theme.” A twinkle shone in his eyes and Castiel watched with interest as whatever private thought Dean had made its way out after some internal debate. It wasn’t what he’d expected. 

“Do I get to call you angel if you turn out to be one of them?” 

It took all of Castiel’s willpower not to try and sock him. “You’re hilarious, truly. I recommend you don’t.”

Dean’s grin widened as he leaned back against the Jeep door, a cocky tilt to his head as he spread his legs. “Or what?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and stepped closer, baring his teeth. “You know… For someone who holds back as a bottom, you sure ask for trouble.”

Dean cleared his throat, warmth spreading from his chest to his neck. “I think I’ve established I’m a mutinous bottom.”

Castiel blinked at the implications of that unexpected revelation. He chuckled, as he leaned in and nipped at Dean’s lower lip. “Watch me change that. I’ll draw sounds out of you never dreamed you’d make.”

Dean breathed into his kiss, licking the corner of Cas’ mouth. “You are welcome to do so. Repeatedly. Take this.”

“What’s this?”

“A gift. My top tracks. Keep you company in the car.”


	16. And Further Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The short man who appeared in Cas’ living room with a fluttering of wings and the stink of angels all over him looked like the perfect victim. Dean’s wings spanned the room, as he rose to his full length, his hands erupting in fire. His eyes flashed hot white.
> 
> The man took a few steps towards him, which seemed counterintuitive and raised his hands in supplication. He held himself with a cockiness that belied the gesture. Dean made to burn the heart out of him. 
> 
> “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dean-o! How about you don’t and listen!”

“Just make the damn decision, Dean.” John leaned both hands on the dinner table, his shadow reaching for Dean.

Mirroring his father’s wide arms, Dean leaned back in his chair, maintaining his poker face. His voice was tight when he spoke. “I’ll make the damn decision when I’m good and ready, Dad. Ain’t that the whole point of this patriarch business? You don’t send your people in to die, if you can avoid it.”

“But you’ll send yourself in first,” Ash pointed out.

Dean raised his eyebrows and gave a cocky nod, opening his arms wide and letting them fall to his sides. “Also the whole damn point.”

“When is Rowena going to get here?” Charlie muttered, her nose buried in one of the witch’s books. “I can’t make this out.”

Bobby leaned over her chair. “Sumerian.”

“You can read it?”

“Too old.”

She looked up, her big browns teasing. “Aww, don’t say that, Bobby. You’re in your prime.”

Charlie received a gentle clip up the head, but the tension seeped out of the room a bit.

To be fair, despite efforts to keep everyone under control, the tension John had brought in his wake had never left the house. Dean was impressed that his father had let go of the issue of Castiel. Not to the point of wanting Cas over or involved in the planning, which Cas was okay with, so long as he was there for the endgame. The urgency John put behind the situation _ had _prevented Dean from sleeping over at Cas’ place and seeing if he’d make good on his threats.

He missed being around him. Alone in his bed, headphones on, Dean would sometimes give it some thought, but not too much... Why he trusted Castiel so implicitly was beyond him, but he preferred to go with his gut. Sam and Charlie seemed to feel the same. Even Bobby, though he wasn’t inclined to say it out loud.

Ash and John... not so much.

Both he and Sam were trying to adjust to this new father. Between them, they’d agreed there was apparently a scale of assbuttery to John Winchester and it kept exploring new highs. Or lows. Whereas Sam was convinced this was it, Dean hoped his father could recover, especially if they got closure on their mom. Revenge always was John’s best remedy for anything that didn’t go his way, wrath demon or not.

Dean rubbed his forehead. They hadn’t made enough headway. The demon trap was influenced by something besides angelic powers and until they figured that out, he refused to give the go-ahead, much to John’s dismay. It took all his practised patience to do so, because in truth he was too much like John. He _ wanted _ to charge in. The Adversary’s song tempted him to do so. But that wasn’t right, simple as that. He didn’t want to put anyone else in danger. Sam insisted on joining. So did Cas. Squishy humans.

But technically, Sam wasn’t human. Dean didn’t know if the process of giving up one’s demon heritage could be reversed. After bringing it up in the days preceding Sam’s changing and the dialogue going to shit, he hadn’t mentioned it again. It was Sam’s choice. And if he and Cas were right, Cas wasn’t human either. Which technically meant he could take them into the fray.

_ Technically _.

It wasn’t something he was willing to risk.

Crossing his arms, only half listening to the continued discussion, Dean rested a subtle hand on his chest, in search of the pulsing bond that confirmed Cas’ existence. Ever since they'd lost it temporarily in the wake of the demon trap, Dean was frantic about how that had been possible. No one knew his fears, except likely Cas, but they didn't talk about it. He blamed the atypical magic of the trap, but that meant something similar could happen again... A quick glance at the time told him he would likely still be asleep. A 3am text had reassured him Cas got home safe from a hunt.

A smile tugged at his lips and his eyes went into a thousand yard stare. The contrast between the reality at hand and where he would much rather be was stark. When John’s voice rose and cut through his _ much _more pleasant memories, he lost patience.

“Alright, enough!” Dean rose, slamming both hands down on the table, making Charlie jump. The angry judgment in her eyes took him aback.

“Enough of what, son? Waiting? Sitting around? Book perusing, hoping to find something we won’t? We need to _ move _.”

“Rowena...” Charlie started, but John cut her off.

“Rowena isn’t family. Have you all forgotten why we’re doing this? It’s Mary. Your _ mother _. I don’t know why this is so hard to understand?”

Bobby sighed and Dean saw his shoulders sag for a moment. It was taking a lot out of everyone, this constant assault, endless questioning and trying to force everyone’s hand. Beyond it was the worry and need to do something, anything for Mary.

“Enough, Dad. You don’t call the shots.”

“I’m aware. If my wings weren’t...”

Dean cast his eyes down, uncomfortable. “It isn’t about your wings, Dad. You can’t just...”

“Can’t what? Come home with news of your mother and expect everyone to get off their asses? That angel bounty hunter of yours gets more leeway than I do and he ain’t family.”

“He’s been family more than you have,” Dean bit.

Bobby’s words cut off whatever Charlie wanted to say. “Enough, John. It’s time someone said it. You ran out on these kids when they needed you most.”

“Not this again,” John growled, throwing his hands up. “We’ve been over this!”

“Yeah, we have!” Bobby barked. “Just because you don’t agree with how your kids perceived it don’t change their damn perception of the facts.”

“I ain’t having this discussion to justify my actions, Bobby. I’m here, I have a lead on their mother, we know where the fuckers are and we need to go! Now.”

Somewhere between the word ‘justify’ and ‘now’, pain cut through Dean, from his chest to his extremities and his knees gave out. He slammed a hand on the table, trying to hold himself up and he vaguely registered Charlie knocking her chair over to get to his side.

“Dean!”

“It’s Cas,” he groaned, his body shaking.

“What is it now?!” John snarled.

Dean’s restraint broke. His human form evaporated in a violent display of wrath. Through the haze of pain, he shook off Charlie and charged his father, whose demon form showed in response. In less than a second, Dean had the man slammed into the wall, choking him with his arm. “What did you do?! Who did you sic on Cas? Tell me!”

“I didn’t do anything!” John barked. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

His eyes flashed white in fury. “That’s worthless. I know your network! Who?!”

“Dean!” John’s demon eyes, an oily black, were wide and his hands burned on Dean’s skin.

As a kid, he’d sometimes imagined what it would be like to go up against his father. He looked up to the man, still did, and it only made sense to want to see how you fared against your idol. Today... John wasn’t who he used to be and he’d been stripped of part of his powers. His vitriol sent him an image of burning his father to a crisp and he balked. The Adversary’s song wailed in disappointment. Dean grit his teeth, his hands on John’s chest, keeping his father in place.

“Wrath...” He grunted. “It would have me burn you where you are.”

John’s face flickered between his forms. “Dean. I know what it’s asking. Let go. I didn’t send anyone after your friend.”

“How can I trust you?”

John’s face fell in a sad smile. “I’m many things, but I’m still your father. I swear to you, Dean, I never did anything but what I thought right for this family. Even if that turned out to be a mistake, I’ll take it. I know the kind of man I’ve become.”

“You think Cas is an angel.”

John’s voice softened. “And so do you.”

Dean paled and let go of his father, putting distance between them. He rolled his shoulders, adjusted his clothes with clipped gestures and returned to his human form.

“Yeah,” John said. “That’s what I thought. I know the idea stuck... You’re too smart not to consider it. But even if you believe it, you still trust him.”

Keeping his face neutral, Dean studied his father. He felt Charlie next to him, her hand slipping into his. She hadn’t done that in a long time and it wasn’t until then that he noticed he was trembling.

“So no, I did not send anyone after Cas. I figure if he turns out to be one of the feathers who killed your mother, we’ll take him down then and there. Together.” A cruel smile and John’s eyes shifted to black again.

Dean shivered and Charlie squeezed his hand. John was right. If it came to that... Dean wasn’t sure he’d hold anything together. A horrid image materialised in his mind’s eye, where he tore Cas limb from limb. And just as quickly, another vision crowded that one. Castiel’s blue eyes, genuine and wide, as he spoke four impossible words.

“Dean,” Charlie whispered. “Cas didn’t do anything. Don’t listen to it.”

Through tears he hadn’t known were there, he looked at Charlie, focusing on her eyes. Of the three of them, Sam was the most empathic, but Charlie... Charlie seemed to know what went on in his head sometimes, even if he kept shit from her. His chest ached as if his heart had been torn from him.

“Stay with me, Dean. You’ve done so for all these years.”

“Cas,” he muttered. “He’s gone. I can’t feel him anymore.”

Charlie hugged him, anxiety tangible in her whole body. “Then go check on him. I’ve got this.”

“Dean! Don’t...” John started, but Dean bamfed out of Charlie’s arms.

*

He materialised in Cas’ bedroom.

“CAS!”

A mess. They got to him here, the sheets hanging off the bed. Furniture was toppled in the small living room, a tall lamp broken. Dean shifted to demon form and smelled the air with deep inhales. The scent was off. He searched the place and found the wards Sam and Charlie had put up burned away, leaving singed remains on the walls and surfaces.

The pain in his chest felt like a raw nerve and all he wanted was to find Cas. A deep sound of frustration surged up, his senses on edge and reaching out for something, _ anything _ he could take it out on.

The short man who appeared in Cas’ living room with a fluttering of wings and the stink of angels all over him looked like the perfect victim. Dean’s wings spanned the room, as he rose to his full length, his hands erupting in fire. His eyes flashed hot white.

The man took a few steps _ towards _him, which seemed counterintuitive and raised his hands in supplication. He held himself with a cockiness that belied the gesture. Dean made to burn the heart out of him. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Dean-o! How about you don’t and listen!”

The nickname took some of the wind out of his sails and his form stuttered. “_ What _?” Something clicked in his mind from the stories Cas had told.

A smile made the man’s eyes turn to slits, as he fired off words at a rapid pace. “Gabriel, Cassie’s brother, I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Before you blast me to cinders, use that demon efficiency of yours.. I know who has Cassie, but I’ma need your help.”

When Dean held his stance, he continued. “You can release all that beautiful anger on its rightful owners. I’ve even got Luci in tow.”

Dean’s form fell away from him, when behind Gabriel, someone else materialised and he found himself in the company of the Pride Patriarch. Lucifer’s eyes glowed red in the dark, a vicious smile splitting his damaged face. “Anything to piss off our beloved Michael and Dad, even when he’s not around.”

His neurons fired fast as Dean connected the dots. He sighed, his face falling. “So it’s true. He’s one of you?”

“He _ was _,” Gabriel conceded, his head tilted. “But he gave it up to be human.”

His face must have given him away entirely, because he noticed something akin to amused pity in Gabriel’s. Dean bristled and scowled at him.

Lucifer made a face of disgust, his forked tongue slipping out. “Why would anyone want that? Be human, I mean... ugh, all the bodily fluids.”

Dean cocked his head. “Really? As I understood it, you’re all douchebags. Well, except you. Sort of.” He gestured at Gabriel.

“He’s right, Luci,” Gabriel smiled at his brother. “You _ are _a great big bag of dicks.”

“I’ve missed you too, Gabe.”

“In fact, the whole family is, I mean, look at me. You think I did this to myself?”

Dean took a closer look at Gabriel and had to concede he looked like shit. There were marks on his wrists, as if he’d been chained up for a long period of time. One eye was still covered in the remnants of a serious bruise. His lips were chapped and his clothes looked dirty.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Funnily enough, something akin to the actual hell. It seems The Seekers have lost their path.”

“They were never on it to begin with,” Lucifer shrugged.

“Look, it’s what our family does, alright?” Gabriel snapped. “We do dysfunction _ really _ well.”

“Well, nothing stopped you from seceding from them like I did.”

“Excuse me for not wanting to bail on Cassie entirely.”

Confusion threatened to overpower everything else at this weird-ass display of angelic family dynamics. “Okay, can we focus here? Who has Cas?”

“Our family does. Perhaps we could join you. As I understand it, you have a bit of an army at your disposal, and boy, are you gonna need it.”

Dean let out a bark of humourless laughter. “Our house is warded against angels.”

“Then _ unward _ it,” Lucifer suggested in a tone that wasn’t suggestion at all.

Dean sneered on instinct. “Eat me.”

Gabriel waved sarcastic jazz-hands. “Oh, I just _ love _ patriarch dynamics. Back off, Luci. We don’t have time to waste, Dean, and your arsenal just quadrupled.”

His expression like thunder, Dean’s eyes bounced back and forth between Gabriel and Lucifer. One was familiar, almost kin, but he’d be insane to trust the Pride Patriarch without so much as a critical thought. He tried to match Castiel’s stories with the angelic family that was taking shape in front of his eyes. They were the original ones. The archangels. God’s direct subordinates. Lucifer was a jackass, but all demons were and he was formidable in battle. Gabriel... All he had to go on was Castiel’s word.

With a reluctant sigh, Dean put his phone to his ear. Charlie picked up immediately. “Talk to me, dork.”

“Charlie...” He eyed his unexpected company, amidst the chaos of Castiel’s wrecked apartment. “I, uhh... I... Cas isn’t here, but I found... others.”

“Others? Dean, are you okay?”

“I am, they’re his brothers. I guess?” He lifted a questioning hand at Gabriel and Lucifer, who nodded. One oozed glee, the other reluctant acceptance.

“We’re talking an archangel. And _ Luci _.” 

He spoke the nickname, his lips curling in amusement. The air next to him seemed to heat up and he turned his back on them, eyes wide with a mild ‘_shit shit shit _’ reflected in them at feeling Lucifer’s fury.

“Luci?” Charlie echoed.

Dean coughed, swallowing a chuckle. “The Pride patriarch.” He could almost see Charlie doing her best fish out of water expression.

“Huh? Oooh... So Cas was... he is... Oh, _ Jeez _.”

“Blasphemy. Charlie, focus. You gotta take down the angel wards.”

“What?! No!”

He lifted a hand in annoyance. “I have Gabriel and Lucifer, two of Castiel’s brothers offering to help us. What do you want me to do? Keep them on speaker? Let’s be efficient about this.”

“Yeah, no, I get that, but I am not leaving this house defenceless, Dean. I’ll work on an exception for them. Sam and Rowena made it in. She can help me.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. A full house. He wasn’t sure how he was going to manage this unruly lot. His eyes flickered to _ Luci _. They hadn’t met often, but something in those red eyes unsettled him. For a demon, that was saying something.

“Charlie, get Rowena out by the time we come in. Let’s try to keep a lid on this for as long as we can.”

“That might be wishful thinking. Dad’s return hasn’t gone unnoticed and if Cas is an angel...”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean sighed as he hung up. “Well, boys, looks like we’re gonna have to wait until the house is accessible for you lot. How about you two fill me in a bit?”


	17. Right or Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Then what the hell happened a few months ago?”
> 
> Gabriel sighed, a touch incredulous. “You did, Dean-o.”

“Recap, Gabe,” Dean ordered. “Just to reassure some doubts.”

The living room carried the energy of a war room, a remnant of the volatile chaos of everyone meeting. Three patriarchs in one room made for a lot of testosterone, to the point where several people rolled their eyes in unison, Dean included. Lucifer seemed to bask in the bedlam, but eventually his presence went some way to mollify John and Ash. Gabriel proved to be stupid calm in the face of an infamous family of demons. Reputation and height count for something, except when you’re an archangel. It might have irked Dean to be impressed by him.

Now whenever it got bad, Charlie mimicked flicking some dirt off her shoulder with a pointed look at whichever one of them was being an ass.

Team Winchester was in full attendance: Sam, Charlie, Bobby, Ash, John. The sub-unit he dubbed team Castiel was smaller and dubious: Gabriel and Lucifer, though Sam and Charlie were likely to defect at any moment.

In the time he spent waiting for Charlie to nuance the angel warding, Dean got the quick and dirty from Gabriel. Though he wanted to pick the man’s brain about Castiel, he forced himself to focus on the main objective: getting back Cas and finding out what happened to his mother.

It was a blessing they’d been forced to cooperate more since seeking refuge on Earth, but the alliance around his table was shaky. Dean could taste it. People’s motivations were vague as well, which he loathed. Dean was on the fence about whether he _ liked _ Gabriel... His concern seemed genuine enough. Lucifer was a wild card. He always had been. John’s last remark after their fight played over and over in Dean’s head, suggesting his father could be as much of a loose cannon when push came to shove. Faced with a hostile group of elite angels, he wasn’t sure any of his crew would be able to keep a handle on their wrathful nature.

He spread his legs wide, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room and everyone in it. Fuck it. He had this. For everyone’s sake. And if he didn’t, he’d take as many down with him as he could.

Lucifer gestured for Gabriel to take the floor, a touch of sarcasm to it. Gabriel squinted a smile at his brother and mirrored Dean’s pose when he spoke. Regardless of the situation, there was a permanent twinkle to his eyes, as if the whole world was a joke.

Maybe he knew something Dean didn’t.

“Alright, troops,” he started. “That trap you boys triggered was the outer perimeter of where they’re keeping Cassie. We had some help from Asgard there.”

“Crowley will love hearing that,” Ash said.

“We?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, yes, _ we _,” he gestured at himself and Lucifer, “are sadly related to the lot of them. The Seekers, as you call them.”

“What do they call themselves?”

“Family,” Lucifer grinned. “Angels. Archangels. The legion of the righteous. The Seekers is just a cover on Earth.”

“Let me guess... as bounty-hunters,” Dean said.

“We have a winner,” Gabriel smiled, pointing a finger at him.

“You fucking douchebags messed with his head.”

“Nu-uh, Dean-o, he asked to have his memory wiped. We only accommodated. Well, Dad did. Cassie being his favorite and all.”

Lucifer rolled his head back for a second. “Can we move on to whatever passes for a plan for you guys? Cause it’s just gonna come down to me and Gabe doing most, if not all of the work.”

“You might be surprised,” Charlie snapped.

Gabriel’s face hardened. “Hey, this is so much fun, I see why you wanted your own legion. _ So _ trap. Asgard magic. The town is under some serious glamor, something we’ll need to break in order to get in. I understand your scryer here can help us with that?”

Charlie gave a nod, looking paler than usual, as she patted her backpack of tools and components.

“There’s only six of them you really need to worry about, two in particular. I mean, there’s more, but they’re just grunts. Naomi, Metatron, Zachariah, Raziel and your local archangels, Michael and Raphael. Those are your main concern.”

“Raziel is my angelic supervisor,” Dean said. “He wasn’t a total douche when I met him. Let’s hope it counts for something.”

“I ain’t pulling any punches to find out,” Bobby said.

John grunted in agreement, giving a nod for emphasis.

“I wouldn’t advise pulling punches,” Lucifer smiled. “Just go for the kill. It’s good for what ails you.”

“Or,” Gabriel said, eyebrows high, his forehead wrinkling, “we focus on getting what we want.”

“That’s the catch, isn’t it?” Sam said. “We might be on the same side, but I’m not sure we want the same outcome.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Sam. “Are we sure we’re taking you with us? Will I need to watch your back?”

Sam looked deeply uncomfortable at his tone. Whatever the stick up the Pride patriarch’s butt was, Dean decided to intervene. “What is it we want?”

Arms wide, Gabriel scoffed. “Cassie back, of course.”

John spoke up, tone clipped. “I want answers about my wife. I’m still confused why you can’t help us there, Gabriel.”

“We’re backing the Winchester patriarch,” Ash added.

“This isn’t my usual look in case you were wondering,” Gabriel said. “Cassie got out, I was a close second.”

“Posers,” Lucifer snorted. “I did it before it was trendy.”

“Really?” Dean barked at his fellow patriarch. “Cram it, Luci. Who did this to you, Gabe?”

Gabriel smiled at the nicknames and nudged Lucifer. “Awww, it feels like we’re family already.” When Dean didn’t take the bait, he rolled his eyes and continued. “_ This _ is the handiwork of Asmodeus and Alistair under instructions of our brother, Michael.”

A ripple of recognition went through the Winchesters. Even by demonic standards, Alistair was on a level of his own. Dean suppressed a shiver. Asmodeus was a Prince of Hell with ambitions that were beyond his talents.

“Can we expect them to be there, if your family has thrown their lot in with them?”

Gabriel gave a sideways nod. “I wouldn’t exclude the possibility. The thing is... They were supposed to leave Cassie alone. Those were Dad’s standing orders to Michael. To all of us really. It was fine until a few months ago.”

“Then what the hell happened a few months ago?”

Gabriel sighed, a touch incredulous. “You did, Dean-o.”

As some of the pieces fell into place, Dean felt the blood drain from his face. Somehow _ he _ was the reason Cas was in trouble, not the other way around. A chuckle from Lucifer drew his attention. “Yeah, let that sink in.”

Dean grimaced and held his tone even. “Why are you even here, man?”

“To fuck with Dad’s plan.”

“There is no plan. God never had a plan.”

“Of course not. I just like causing or joining in some mayhem. It’s been slim pickings ever since we got stranded here and shackled to laws and regulations.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “It’s unseemly.”

“What do you know about our mom?” Charlie asked.

Gabriel frowned, while Lucifer held his disinterested expression.

“I don’t know anything about your mother. Like I said, they’ve strayed... Further than ever before and I can’t tell you for sure what their objective is. Not anymore.”

Sam couldn’t keep the urgency out of his voice. “But is it possible they have her?”

“Anything is possible. What happened to her?”

“We lost her long ago. In the aftermath of The Adversary, she was presumed dead...”

“I’ve been looking for her ever since,” John put in. “Your Seekers came onto my radar. I believe they were the last ones to have seen her.”

“Get to your plan. I’m bored.”

“Tough shit,” Charlie said. “The plan is for me to break the glamour on their hide-out and we go in.”

Ash made a tsk-noise. “That’s mediocre. We raised you better than that.”

“But we have archangels now!”

“Who we’re not sure we can trust. No offence, guys.” Ash gestured for the Winchesters to step into the kitchen.

“None taken,” Lucifer said, hands in his pockets.

“Some taken,” Gabriel protested with mock insult.

In the kitchen, they huddled together, shoulder to shoulder in each other’s space.

“Angels are terrible to work with,” Sam groaned.

“I’m starting to see how The Adversary got the upper-hand,” Bobby muttered. “These guys ain’t keeping anything safe, least of all Earth.”

“To be fair, one of them is Lucifer.”

“I meant The Seekers.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Ash said. “We seem worried about the state of the world.”

“Mom and Cas, right now that’s all I care about.”

“You guys, Rowena and I are working on something, but you gotta let us work it out. Don’t give me that look, Dad.”

“You’re a demon. Not a witch.”

“Who says I can’t be both?”

Lifting a hand at his father, Dean rested the other between her shoulders. “You can. I trust you, Charlie. What do you need to do what you gotta do?”

“Time. As much as you can give me, once we’re in.”

John grimaced. “Just... Be careful, kid. Dean, we got the inside information. Do you trust them?”

“I think we can trust them about as far as we can trust anyone, but I do feel his care for Castiel is genuine. Gabriel, I mean. Lucifer is another matter.”

“He gives me the creeps,” Sam hissed.

Bobby nodded. “But he’s damn powerful and he’s the original fallen angel. He ain’t gonna side with his family. Not over the likes of this.”

Ash let out a sigh. “We’re buying his mayhem crap?”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “What choice do we have? I mean, we can all bitch about plans, but the truth of the matter is we know where we need to be, Cas is in there, someone in there might lead us to Mom. With two archangels on our side, we’re as good as it’s gonna get. We gotta go.”

“What if demons show up?”

“We take them out. I got dibs on Alastair.”

“Gabriel might beat you to it.”

“He can have Asmodeus. Ash, what are the odds of calling in any cavalry?”

“For emergencies, I have Crowley and his goons a phone call away. Asgard is out, until we understand what part they’re playing.”

Dean considered it a few seconds, lining up the pieces on the board in his head, and nodded. “Fine, then this is it. Let the archangels take point, until we have eyes on our target. Do not follow them blind. Bobby, you bamf Dad over. Sam, you’re with me. Charlie, you take...”

“Rowena, got it.”

Dean cleared his throat, lifting a finger at his family. All eyes fell on him. He breathed deep. “Whatever happens, stick together. I know The Adversary’s song is audible for all of us all the time. I need you sharp and on the ball. We go in, we go in hard. Get Cas. Keep one of these fuckers alive to tell us something, anything about mom. Stay focused and keep each other in check. Get your preparations done. We’re leaving in two hours.”

*

They probably should have questioned why the giant demon trap had not been restored. The outer perimeter was the way they left it, broken and caved in over a vast area. It took the combined efforts of Charlie, Rowena and Bobby to ensure nothing lingered that would send them all tumbling. The same triumvirate drew circles in the soil, the women chanting, as they worked their way through the glamor. With every step Rowena and Charlie spoke, their voices soft but strong on the night’s air, the others watched the town shimmer as layers peeled off. It took them an hour, but in the end all that was left standing was a crisp, white building, eight stories high. They could see light on the top two floors. The rest of it was steeped in darkness.

“Does this remind you of something?” Lucifer asked, jutting his chin out.

Gabriel chuckled. “Yeah, nothing screams Dad’s chosen like a pale white tower reaching for Heaven.”

“We’re all in the gutter now. None of you are chosen anymore.”

“Let’s move,” Dean interrupted.

Charlie and Sam flanked him and he sensed everyone behind them. When he reached out for Cas, there was nothing. He could only hope it meant something other than what he feared.

“These guys are worse than us,” Charlie hissed. “I’m beginning to think we grew up functional.”

“That might be pushing it,” Sam smiled. “But holy dysfunction, Batman.”

“I guess we just walk in?” Bobby said.

Charlie craned her neck, the closer they got to the building. “Well, the lights are on upstairs…”

“So someone must be home?” Sam snarked.

“You two,” Dean gestured at the archangels. “On either side of Charlie and Sam.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Lucifer glowered, but fell into step next to Sam.

“Perhaps let us ladies go first, dear,” Rowena whispered at Dean, as she slipped past them. “Unless you suddenly became experts at magic.”

“No, but I can tear the damn door off its hinges.”

“I’m sure, but if you want some semblance of stealth…”

Dean looked to Sam, who shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.”

A purple glow emanated from Rowena’s eyes as she held her hands an inch away from the double doors. Charlie stood behind her, eyes closed, her high voice weaving itself through Rowena’s lower chant. With a faint crackle of something electric blue, the doors unlocked. They waited for a response from inside, but everything stayed eerily quiet.

“Now we can go,” Rowena smiled, a thin sheen of sweat on her skin.

Inside, it looked like a brand new office building or convention center front desk. White walls, shiny floors, floor to ceiling windows. Not a soul around.

“You boys go on. Little Red and I have some magic to work from here.”

Dean squeezed Charlie by the shoulder. “Call me if anything happens, alright?”

His sister nodded, her lips a thin line in her pale face. She fell to her knees next to Rowena and they began unpacking their material.

“Lift or stairs?” Lucifer grinned.

“It’s not working,” Ash said, pushing the elevator button.

Switching to his demon form, but keeping his wings tucked, Dean pushed the door to the stairs open with one hand, his senses on alert for the slightest hint of sound or movement. The staircase was dark with only the moon providing slivers of light through the narrow windows. He gave them the clear signal and they slipped inside, the sound of seven people’s footsteps disturbing the silence. When he turned the first corner, he saw from the corner of his eye that John, Bobby and Ash were now in demon form as well. He couldn’t fight back the grin, as memories of another time flooded him. A time of demonic wars and shenanigans, of raids and fire and brimstone. The song vibrated through his being, louder with every staircase they scaled.

On the sixth floor, he heard the first sign of life. Dean raised a fist and his army came to a halt, knit closely together. He turned his head sideways, giving them a nod and saw rather than heard hands catching on fire. They took the last few staircases to the seventh floor, where Dean stared at the door. When he made to touch it, he swore he heard Charlie’s voice and with another soft crackle of electricity it unlocked. The way in was clear. From his gut the thrum of battle throbbed through him and his kin, the one thing that had always connected them beyond blood.

His blood rushed faster and he let out a pleased hum. “Ready?”

He felt the eager response of The Adversary and the pressure of his kin behind him. The door opened and they walked into a wide lit hallway lined with several open doorways. At the end of it was darkness. From one of the doorways, a figure emerged. Her eyes widened a fraction, but she recovered fast as she took in the visitors. Eventually her gaze rested on Lucifer, raised eyebrows wrinkling her forehead.

“Gabriel, how could you?”

The archangel laughed. “I don’t go speechless often or easily, but burning heavens above, Naomi, you do know how to get up on your high horse.”

“Where’s Cas?”

Naomi flicked her eyes to Dean, her nose crinkling in subtle disgust. “Back where he belongs. With his real family. He never should have left in the first place.”

“That’s not up to you.”

“Nor is it up to you,” she said tartly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, we have a business to run.” She busied herself on her phone.

Bobby narrowed his eyes, as he adjusted his cap. “You’re going to ignore an army of demons in your base?”

“Of course not,” Naomi scoffed. “If you came all the way over for Castiel, I can’t help you. So I suggest it’s straight back to the proverbial pit with all of you. That includes you, Gabriel.”

“Oh, you’d rather not hand me back to your pet demons?”

With a pointed look at Gabriel’s company, Naomi turned her back on them. “Get out.”

John pushed past Bobby, his anger emanating off him in waves. “Tell me where my wife is.”

Naomi turned her head to the right, but failed to face them. “Your wife?”

“Mary Winchester. Former wrath demon, matriarch and scryer for the fate demons. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

This time, she did turn, her face an unreadable mask. “The Winchester name is familiar on all planes of existence. Why should your wife be of importance to us?”

“You tell me. My sources tell me you were the last ones to see her.”

She shrugged. “Your sources are wrong.”

“And I can tell you’re fucking lying,” Dean growled.

He beat his father to it, but both of them lunged for Naomi, whose face contorted in fury. A flash of bright light pushed everyone back before they got to her. By the time Dean’s eyes had recovered, the hallway too was covered in darkness.

“Balls,” Bobby muttered.

“Let’s move,” Dean grunted. “They have to be here. This is too much effort to be an empty shell.”

His demon eyes adjusted to the dark with ease and they started walking forward. As they approached the end of the hallway, epileptic lights beyond it flickered, Dean gestured for his family to slow down. His heart skipped a few beats when, outlined against the gleaming light, he saw an all too familiar trench coat and_ wings _. Even in the dark, he could tell they were as black as night with smudges like meteor tails painted in. He wished he had the time to appreciate it.

“CAS!”

The sound of thunder sent the lights flickering and in the strobe-like effect, he could make out Castiel’s face. His blue eyes were cold and empty. His jawline was clenched tight. This wasn’t his Cas. He moved with an alien rigidity to his shoulders, as he extended a hand at them.

“What the hell did you do to him!”

Behind Castiel, he could make out several other figures moving. When his father shot past him in a grey snarling blur, Dean knew control was lost and he started running with his kin. Ash reeled next to him, Cas’ attack hitting home. Dean sped up to grapple Cas around the waist and bowl him over. Castiel grunted as Dean knocked the wind out of him. They shot out of the hallway into a wide open landscape with pitch black windows and scattered, picking their targets. The air filled with the sound of wings and the clamour of violence.

Without any hint of recognition, Castiel slipped out of his grasp, going after Ash, and Dean cursed, when his pursuit was blocked. His chest hurt as hands pushed him back and he came face to face with Michael, dressed in a heavy leather coat. His blue-lit eyes spoke arrogant volumes and the ease with which he moved towards Dean suggested he was underestimating him.

Unimpressed, Dean pushed forward, hands aflame. “Where did you come from? A Mad Max film set?”

Michael grabbed hold of his wrists, but Dean could _ see _ his fire burning the fabric of his clothing without touching. Up close in Michael’s face, he snarled channelling his urges through his anger. “I will fucking burn you to ash.”

His body shook under Michael’s assault, his angel grace lighting up and pain shot through Dean’s every muscle. He allowed his demonic nature to ooze through his grin and eyes, relishing in the infuriation he saw in Michael’s face when he barely budged.

“Yeah, we’re a bit more on par, jackass. Shouldn’t have pissed off a patriarch.”

Michael leered. “We picked up a few tricks on this earthly adventure.” 

Starting at his hands, electricity crackled and the spear of lightning flayed Dean’s nervous system. Dean’s teeth clenched under the assault and he tasted blood in his mouth. The scent of burned flesh invaded his nose. Coughing, he slammed both hands into Michael’s face and lighting him up, sent him flying backwards.

“Asgard magic,” Bobby yelled, dodging a balding angel with bulging eyes.

“No kidding,” Dean grunted, dancing out of Michael’s reach.

He glanced around and caught sight of Cas in battle with Ash, John rushing up for support. Beyond them, Lucifer and Sam were ganging up on Naomi, his brother alternating between his gun and an angel blade. To his other side, Gabriel was holding his own against a tall, dark-skinned woman and a short, bearded man who looked incredibly intolerable.

His blood sang through him and he laughed when he dodged another of Michael’s attacks, resisting the power behind it that tried to knock him off balance. He twirled around his own axis, knocking his wings into Michael full force, feeling the leather surface bend the feathers. Halfway he bent through one knee, extended a leg and came full circle, knocking Michael off his feet.

He pinned Michael down, one burning hand on his throat. “What did you do to Cas? My mother?”

Dean felt something resist his attack, like a shield over Michael’s skin. He doubled his efforts and saw small bright blue cracks forming, but Michael did not look deterred. Taking advantage of Dean’s frustration, Michael shoved him off and onto his side. Dean rolled on and scrambled back to his feet, using his wings to stabilize himself. Michael got back to his feet, wiping at his throat and adjusting his coat.

“Dad’s plan backfired,” he shrugged. “We decided to intervene. What’s it to you?”

_ Everything _. Dean bit back the reply and held his ground. Behind Michael he saw Ash and John cornering Cas, and he decided to change tactics. He bamfed towards Castiel, catching Ash’s claw with his right wing as he shoved Cas out of the way.

“Take on Michael,” he snarled. “Let me handle Cas.”

The protest he saw forming on John’s lips and read in Ash’s eyes was blown away when Michael’s lightning attack slammed between the three of them and they were blasted off their feet. Dean felt the impact when he hit Castiel and they went tumbling down in a mess of limbs and wings.

A cold hand closed over his neck and without ceremony dragged him across the smooth floor. Dean winced, unwilling to release his powers, but sensing the lack of restraint in Castiel. With a growl, he let rip a fierce blast of heat and feeling Castiel’s grip loosen moved out of reach. A quick glance behind him saw Ash standing up to Michael, as his father stayed down, wisps of smoke coming off his prone body. There was a crater where Michael’s attack had landed and one of the windows was blown out. Michael was preparing to jump and lash out and before he could decide whether John was dead, Castiel grabbed him by the scruff and slammed him into the wall. The brick gave way under his back.

A fist collided with his face, over and over. Dean dug up reserves to strengthen his skin, to take the punishment, as he tried to establish contact. 

“Cas. Cas!”

To no avail. One eye slipped shut and he heard his eye socket break. Blood pooled warm in the back of his throat. A vicious elbow to his clavicle sent him on his knees. He grabbed onto Castiel’s sleeve to ward him off or ground him, he didn’t know. 

“I know you’re in there.”

Blood ran down his face and neck, and a gurgling sound bubbled up as he tried to speak. “I know you can hear me, Cas.” 

His voice broke after the next punch. “It’s me.”

Castiel’s eyes void of any emotion, Dean felt his heart threaten to shatter into a million pieces. He held him in his gaze, breathing hard, awaiting the next blow. With a groan, he reached up and put a hand on Castiel’s chest, searching frantically for their connection, the pulsing glow he’d grown used to in such a short span of time.

“We’re family. We need you. I need you.”

Castiel’s grace travelled his nerves, sending jolts of pain with it, tearing him apart.

“Cas,” Dean moaned. “Cas, please.”

The pinpricks of pupils in those blue eyes were blown wide. The grip of death on Dean relented and he swore he _ felt _Cas return to him, his chest warming up, expanding and enveloping them. Cas’ voice was broken when he spoke, like he’d been kept in isolation for years.

“Dean?”

Dean let out a throaty laugh, but it stuttered to a halt in his throat when he saw Castiel’s face contort in a mask of rage. A bellowing roar left him, his eyes glowing bright blue, as he turned around and released an attack, which sent a shockwave in a 30 feet diameter, people staggered. Windows shattered outward. The lights across the room blew out, sending sparks everywhere, and sank them in darkness. Dean squinted at the violent assault on his senses.

Michael moved fast as lightning, using his Asgard tricks to pull Cas towards him and Dean sped after Castiel, whose hands reached for him, eyes wide, his lips a silent o. Electricity crackled across his features, Cas’ body convulsed as his eyes rolled back in their sockets. The pulse that had only just returned hiccuped like a heart monitor giving out. 


	18. I Looked Away, I Turned Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cas? What’s going on? Talk to me!”
> 
> “It’s… strange. Splintered,” Castiel muttered. “Like it’s reassembling itself.”
> 
> His hands on Castiel’s back, Dean’s warmth and strength seeped through their layers of clothing. “You’re looking a bit pale there.”
> 
> “Dean,” Castiel panted. “I fear I am passing out.”

_ Michael moved fast as lightning, using his Asgard tricks to pull Cas towards him and Dean sped after Castiel, whose hands reached for him, eyes wide, his lips a silent o. Electricity crackled across his features, Cas’ body convulsed as his eyes rolled back in their sockets. The pulse that had only just returned hiccuped like a heart monitor giving out. _

A surge of fear and anger took out Dean’s impulse control. “Cas, NO!” 

Dean zoned in on Michael behind him and let rip his power. His wings carried him up and over Cas, claws out, and he took down Michael with such force that the tiled floor cracked apart beneath them. Surrendering to his wrath, Dean burned Michael’s eyes from their sockets, as he boiled his blood and set his body on fire from the inside out. Michael’s grace put up a fight and Dean felt like his bones were breaking.

And suddenly the world tilted, his sense of up and down flipping. When the pressure on his skin lifted, as Michael died at his hands, he let out rough breaths of air. With a hitched sound as his beaten body protested, Dean tripped getting to Cas and it felt as if the world was coming to a trembling halt, like a giant hand reached out and stopped it spinning.

In the next few seconds, most combatants froze where they stood. Ash wanted to rush to John, but was grappled by Naomi. Dean tried not to let nausea overtake him, both from Cas’ assault and seeing his father wounded or worse. The tall dark woman held Gabriel by the throat, standing over the little man’s body. He could not get eyes on anyone else as he and Cas got within reach of each other. 

Lightning shot down in the middle of the chaos, reflecting off every surface and from it, two figures appeared. A man and woman, hand in hand, neither of which Dean had seen before in his life. A soft light emanated from them, casting everyone in broken shards of light and shadow. Upon their appearance, Dean heard Naomi’s breath halt and Ash shoved her off. They scrambled towards John.

Naomi’s face was rapt. “_Father_.”

Dean winced at the word and wrapped an arm around Castiel’s waist under the trench coat. “Cas… Is that…?”

“Enough,” the woman said. She stepped forward and waved a subtle hand. “Raphael, let go of Gabriel.”

A force bigger than all of them together pushed all living combatants apart. Grunts and protests were heard all-round as they lost their grip on one another. Groans of pain followed soon after. Gabriel sank to one knee and rubbed his throat, as he glared at the woman. 

Lucifer scowled at the two newcomers, as he helped Sam up. Of everyone present, he looked the least impressed. In fact, he looked mostly miffed. The demon half of the onlookers landed on the side of disbelief, whereas the angelic side bordered on adoring zealotry.

“Easy, Amara. They don’t know any better.”

The man lifted a hand. He was a rather short, bearded man, whose eyebrows suggested he knew the meaning of the word empathy. His dress sense was stupidly casual for who Dean believed him to be. 

“Father,” Raphael said, her voice cracked. “You’ve returned to us.”

“Why?” Lucifer snapped.

“Now hold on a damn minute,” Bobby barked. “_You_’re God?”

“Call me Chuck.”

“_Chuck_?” Dean grimaced as he repeated the name. “Really? What kind of a joke is this?”

“Oh, this is no joke, I assure you,” Amara smiled.

Her fingers curled into a fist and in an instant Dean couldn’t breathe, chucking up blood, eyes wide in horror. Cas put his hand on his chest, emitting a faint blue light. Their bond pulsed in his chest, but it felt different, almost augmented like it could be the size of the Chrysler building.

“Don’t!” Castiel snarled at her, sending a wave of power out.

Amara’s eyes widened when she lost her grip on Dean and sank to her knees. Dean groaned when the pain subsided and was grateful he and Cas were holding each other up. The guilt in Castiel’s eyes took him by surprise and his wings shivered, trying to curl around them both.

He grimaced. “Don’t look at me like that, Cas.”

“Dean,” Castiel whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Dean looked cross-eyed when Castiel put two fingers to his forehead and where they touched his skin, a warmth like balm spread, chasing the pain. Confused, he checked himself for the wounds he knew he’d sustained and found each one healed.

“Cas,” he sighed. “What the hell happened? Are you back?” He put a hand to Cas’ chest, a deep need rising with his hopes.

Cas’ eyes widened when he picked up on it through their bond and he clamped a hand down over Dean’s. The massive black wings quivered behind Castiel and Dean felt a peculiar sense of elation at the sight.

“I am. And what happened is a good question for you, _ father_.”

With that, Castiel turned to Chuck and Amara. Dean scowled when he noticed Cas made to shield him.

*

Extending his wing to protect Dean, Castiel looked around to find Lucifer holding Sam up, Gabriel too close to Raphael for comfort with Metatron’s unconscious form between them, Ash cradling John’s pale, human form, and Bobby pulling the angel blade out of Zachariah. Michael’s body lay burning where Dean had killed him. Naomi had eyes for no one but their father and aunt.

It took him every effort not to fall to his knees. Dean’s pleas had returned him from a dark place and his mind was still in the process of reassembling itself. There was power at his fingertips, unlike what he’d known before Naomi and Michael got their hands on him. Behind him he heard Dean clearing his throat and pushing past his wing.

When Castiel frowned at him, he smiled, green eyes warm, despite their predicament. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Cas.”

“Think so what?”

“I’m the guardian.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Castiel looked down at his hands, turning them over. There was a faint blue light emanating from his wings, which was definitely new. “I think I’ve had an upgrade, Dean.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed. How’s your head?”

Castiel felt his eyes twinkle at the question. “I haven’t had any complaints.”

Dean barked a relieved laugh.

The seemingly innocuous memory shared from the day he summoned himself a demon guardian twisted in his mind. It slithered and whirled, until he saw the veil lifted. Rowena had been right. Something cracked inside its shell. One crack chased another up and down an iceberg of related memory shards. 

Castiel winced as it started to collapse and he finally saw the full picture, the broken pieces slowly mingling into an ocean of deeper, obscured memories. The ocean was steeped in oil, which sluggishly dissipated the smaller the iceberg became. Castiel panted and leaned forward into Dean’s willing arms.

“Cas? What’s going on? Talk to me!”

“It’s… strange. Splintered,” Castiel muttered. “Like it’s reassembling itself.”

His hands on Castiel’s back, Dean’s warmth and strength seeped through their layers of clothing. “You’re looking a bit pale there.”

“Dean,” Castiel panted. “I fear I am passing out.”

He in fact didn’t lose consciousness, but his mind folded in on itself, as it tried to mix and match all the contradictory information. His knees buckled.

Dean caught him, lowering him to the ground. “Cas! What did you douchebags do?”

Dean’s voice sounded like he was underwater and all Castiel could do was listen and watch, as he struggled to reclaim his identity along with his sanity.

“None of your business,” Naomi bit.

“I would like to know as well,” Chuck said, voice soft. “There is little you can do that we are not aware of to an extent.”

“But you ignore us, right?” Lucifer sneered.

“What the Hell is wrong with you people?!” Dean’s voice rang out. “Hey, Luci, is my brother alright?”

“A bit banged up, but breathing. Precious cargo, right?”

Through the haze of underwater sound effects, every voice lit up muted synapses in his brain and Castiel’s mind fired images at him at a speed beyond the human ability to interpret.

_ “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” _

_ “This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.” _

_ “Ugh, I found a liquor store…” _  
_ “And?” _ _  
_ “… and I drank it.”

_ “I’m an angel, you ass.” _

_ “Listen, you know I’m not one for praying.” _

_ “But I enjoyed the taste of food. Particularly peanut butter with grape jelly, not jam. Jam I found unsettling.” _

_ “Step away from the Netflix.” _

_ “You don’t have to be ruled by fate. You can choose freedom. And I still believe that’s something worth fighting for.” _

_ “I’m praying, okay? Come on! Please!” _

_ “These are my friends… my friends who don’t listen very well.” _

_ “Wow, Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that, I got laid.” _

_ “An Angel, with a capital ‘A’. You know, wings, harp.” _  
_ “No, I don’t have a harp.” _  
_ “This is Castiel. Cas, this is Mary... Winchester.” _ _  
_ “Your mother.”

_ “You can’t save everyone, my friend.” _

_ “Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, one dropout with six bucks to his name and Mr. Comatose over there. It’s awesome.” _

_ “You’re my family. I love you. I love all of you. Just please… Don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run. Save yourselves and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.” _  
_ “Cas, no.” _  
_ “You need to keep fighting.” _  
_ “We are fighting. We’re fighting for you, Cas.” _ _  
_“And like you said we’re family and we don’t leave family behind.” 

_ “Cas, you there?” _

_ “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here.” _  
_ “You’re an idiot.” _  
_ “Stay positive.” _  
_ “Oh, I am positive.” _ _  
_ “Come on, Cas. Don’t be a dick!”

_ “That’s pretty nice timing, Cas.” _  
_ “We had an appointment.” _ _  
_ “Don’t ever change.”

_ “Like I said, son of a bitch doesn’t answer… He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” _  
_ “Hello.” _  
_ “Hello?” _  
_ “Yes.” _  
_ “ _ ** _Hello_ ** _ . Hello?” _  
_ “Uhh.. That is still the term?” _  
_ “I spent all that time trying to get through to you. Dean calls once… and now it’s _ ** _hello_ ** _ .” _  
_ “Yes.” _  
_ “So what? You like him better or something?” _ _  
_ “Dean and I do share a more profound bond. I wasn’t going to mention it.”

_ “It’s funnier in Enochian.” _

_ “Hey, Castiel, I still think you’re one of us.” _

_ “CAS!” _  
_ “Dean…” _  
_ “Cas… Damn, it’s good to see you. Nice beach fuzz.” _  
_ “Thank you.” _  
_ “Want you to meet somebody. This is Benny, Benny, this is Cas.” _  
_ “Hola.” _  
_ “How did you find me?” _  
_ “The bloody way? You okay?” _  
_ “You mean am I still…?” _  
_ “Yeah, if you wanna be on the nose about it, sure.” _  
_ “No, I’m perfectly sane. But then 94% of psychotics think they’re perfectly sane, so I guess we’d have to ask ourselves ‘what is sane’?” _ _  
_ “Yeah, good question.”

_ “I heard your call.” _

_ “I was lost… until I took on your pain.” _

_ “I want Gadreel to pay as much as you do, but nothing is worth losing you.” _

_ “Pull my finger.” _

_ “We’ve been through much together, you and I.” _

_ “Wow! Is that who I think it is? _  
_ “Charlie, Cas. Cas, Charlie.” _  
_ “I thought you’d be shorter.” _  
_ “I’ll get these to the fridge.” _  
_ “Heard you got your mojo back.” _  
_ “Yes! My… my grace, it’s.. it’s been restored.” _  
_ “So… can’t you just… cure Dean?” _  
_ “Unfortunately it’s not that simple.” _  
_ “Never is, is it?” _  
_ “…” _  
_ “Do you think you could do anything about my carpal tunnel?” _  
_ “…” _  
_ “Is that it?” _  
_ “Your carpal tunnel and your bullet wound are now healed. You may wanna continue wearing your wrist brace at night though.” _ _  
_ “Did we just become best friends?!”

_ “I will not let you die.” _

_ “It’s good to have you back, Cas.” _

_ “You… You’re Castiel. Aren’t you?” _ _  
_ _ “It’s an honour to meet you, Chuck. I admire your work.” _

_ “You gotta be kidding me.” _ _  
_ _ “I am not kidding you.” _

_"I_ _ ’m already saved. You can prance and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings, but somehow, I’m awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. And fight you and fight you forever. For eternity. Release me! Release me!” _

_ “You’re not taking Sam Winchester. I won’t let you.” _

_ “I’m not leaving here without you.” _

_ “I prayed to you, Cas, every night!” _  
_ “I know.” _  
_ “You know and you didn’t… What the hell is wrong with you?” _  
_ “I am an angel in a land of abominations. There have been things hunting me from the moment we arrived!” _  
_ “Join the club!” _  
“These are not just monsters, Dean, they’re Leviathan. I have a price on my head and I have been trying to stay one step ahead of them to… to keep  
them away from you. That’s why I ran.”

_ “Cas, please!” _  
_ “I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me?” _ _  
_ “Do it. Just do it!”

_ “The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it.” _

_ “I got you, hold on!” _

_ “You know, this world, this sad, doomed little world, it needs you. It needs every last Winchester it can get, and I will not let you  
die. I won’t let any of you die. And I won’t let you sacrifice yourselves. You mean too much to me, to everything.” _

_ “Now I realize that there is no righteous path. It’s just people trying to do their best in a world where it’s far too easy to do your worst.” _

_ “Good things do happen, Dean.” _ _  
_ _ “Not in my experience.” _

_ “You gave us order, Castiel, and we gave you our trust. Don’t lose it over one man. This is justice.” _  
_ “No. I can’t.” _ _  
_ “Goodbye, Castiel.”

_ “Dean.” _  
“Cas… Okay, okay. Alright.”  
_ “I could go with you.” _  
“No, no, no. Nah, I gotta do this alone. Listen.. If… When… When this works, Sam is gonna be a mess. So look out for him, make sure he  
doesn’t do anything stupid.” _  
_ “Of course.”

_ "If I plan to do anything else stupid, I'll let you know." _

_ “I just wanted to say I’m sorry it ended like this.” _

_ “Father, please… let me go. I… I can’t live this way.” _

_ “Castiel, you can’t ask this of me. You… You are my favorite, despite everything you’ve done.” _

_ “What _ ** _I_ ** _ ’ve done? _ ** _You_ ** _ allowed this… you undid their work. I can’t… This world is broken without them. As am I…” _

_ “Castiel, all you need is time with your family. To heal and recover. With time, you will forget.” _

_ “Please let them go. They… They are destroying their _ ** _souls_ ** _ .” _

_ “You know I can’t do that. Humanity needs to learn. The Winchesters need to learn.” _

_ “You are supposed to be a merciful god!” _

_ “I have been plenty merciful. And I wasn’t always. This is the way it must be.” _

_ “But what is the point? Why not just destroy it?” _

_ “It is my creation. I can do with it as I please and the thought of this new world order pleases me.” _

_ “So you’ll just have us fight this endless fight? Father, I am tired. Tired beyond even the grace of angels.” _

_ “That is your purpose. It always was. And perhaps your punishment as well.” _

_ “Then punish me, not them! All they have ever done was try to do good in your flawed world. I don’t want to… I can’t do this, knowing they are down there, being torn apart. Father, please… Can you not restore what was?” _

_ “You know I can’t do that.” _

_ “You can do anything, if you choose to.” _

_ “Then I choose not to.” _

_ “Fine. Then I want to forget. All of it.” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “You change my memories. I want to forget and live as normal a life as I can. Away from you. Away from Michael… from you. From everyone. Make me human and let me go.” _

_ “If that is what you wish, Castiel…” _

_ Castiel surrendered to his father’s grace with desperation and felt him chip away at his soul, stripping him of everything he had been. He exhaled and let go of the hurt that had been his everlasting companion, ever since losing his chosen family. He surrendered his identity and allowed Chuck to build a new one, a safe one, away from the endless battles and cleaning up. One where he would be free to choose within clearly defined parameters. _

_ It wasn’t until he gave up the last sliver of himself that he felt the sting of suggestive manipulation, his father’s trademark, burn into him. His eyes were blown wide and he cried without a sound, the non-negotiable order sinking its claws into his core, oil seeping from its nails and covering everything. His father’s voice trickled into the chasm of wounds that were left after he was stripped bare. _

_ “Forever lonely, Castiel, you will long for us, even when you know why you left. Yes, you will choose. A life similar to this one, always wanting to change it, never succeeding. Your will to be free of us will be undercut by self-doubt and loneliness as deep as the memories you chose to forget. You will never truly understand why, but you will keep looking for the place you belong. And you will eventually return. You’re family.” _

_ “Cas, I need you.” _


	19. I'm On The Wrong Side Of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That was the point, Castiel,” Amara said. “You were supposed to return to us.”
> 
> “Instead you ran back into the Winchesters. God only knows,” Chuck sneered, heavy on the sarcasm. “How you all manage to find each other back across the planes, I will never understand, but I have had enough.”

_ “Cas, I need you.” _

“Precious cargo, right?”

Castiel blinked and stared at the ceiling. He was on his back and could sense Dean’s warmth next to him, a hand at the pulse in his neck. Voices still sounded like he was under water, but the effect was fading rapidly.

He hadn’t missed a second of time… but he’d been returned a celestial lifetime of them.

“Damn straight he is. Cas, you alright?”

“No.”

Dean frowned and his dimples of discontent appeared, as he reached to grab Castiel’s hands. With his help, he scrambled to his feet. When Dean made to let go, Castiel held tight. His nerve-endings were on fire and his head felt like it had imploded, but for the first time in a long time it seemed he had access to everything that made him Castiel. Until he realised this might only be the case for himself. A crippling heart ache settled in, as he remembered everything. When Dean’s warm green eyes found his, as if he was the only person in the room, Castiel felt giddy and nauseous at the same time.

Castiel had been returned to his original self, but to Dean, this demon Dean, wasn’t he someone else?

How could Dean know? His soul had been torn to shreds in Hell. Chuck had allowed all Winchesters to be tormented for who knew how long, until there was nothing left of any of them. The strongest of them became demons… Castiel had no idea what had become of anyone else ever affiliated with them.

Blind fury lit up his eyes, which he aimed at his father and aunt.

“You did this,” he growled.

Amara raised her hand, but Castiel mirrored her and with a clenched fist sent her to her knees. She gasped, her kohl-lined eyes wide.

“You ruined _ everything_!”

Chuck raised his hands. “Now, Castiel, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! You… You…” His breath hitched, as he tried to wrap his mind around what his father had done. To all of them.

Naomi barked at him. “Castiel, stand down!”

He wheeled on her. “Did you know?!”

She was visibly taken aback and it dawned on Castiel that everyone was staring at him, his wings flaring, the blue light casting an eerie glow on everyone. “Know what?”

“Did you know what he did to them?” Castiel gestured at the demons in the room.

“Of course, he sent them to Hell where they belong.”

“He erased them from my mind! He erased everything, except for a sick need for you all.”

“Cas,” Dean said. “What are you talking about?”

“Dean, he didn’t just mess with my memory. He crippled me. Rowena was right. My mind was broken, but only because _ he _made it so. He didn’t want me to leave.”

Dean searched Castiel’s face, a question in every line of his face.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel groaned. “They made you forget. Everything. A while ago, you told me demons were made in Hell.”

“Yeah, we all are.”

“It wasn’t just protocol. It was him. He sent you there, all of you, out of petty revenge, because we wouldn't play his games. He let us be overrun... You were a hunter, Dean, a human, one of the best men I’ve ever known. My Righteous Man. Don’t you remember?” Castiel blinked hard against the angry tears.

Chuck sighed. “Alright, Castiel, that will do. I only did what was best for you.”

“Burn the world? Torment my family?”

“We’re your family!” Naomi said. “It’s why we brought you back. We knew father didn’t want this.”

Castiel glared at her. “You did know. Did you?” His eyes darted to Lucifer, then to Gabriel.

Gabriel snatched himself out of Raphael’s reach and limped towards Castiel. “I knew Dad changed your memories and he let you go. That’s all. What did he do, Cassie?”

“He changed my memories, but he planted a thought… something that was always there, never left me alone and made me feel so _ lonely_.” His voice broke, but a slight tug at his hand pulled him shoulder to shoulder with Dean.

He looked at Dean, whose eyes were screaming murder and mayhem. “He… He _ programmed _ you?”

“Naomi’s speciality. All of them.” Castiel pricked a finger at Michael’s body and Naomi, grief far from his mind. “All for revenge, punishment… I don’t know. I can’t even understand anymore. After Jack… He undid all your work. Your hunter’s work. Released every monster on Earth and then The Adversary. Sent you to Hell, all because we didn’t obey, didn’t play by his rules. Because it was the end of his story. Not ours.”

“Rules.” A sordid snort of laughter escaped Dean. “He _ released _ The Adversary? _ You_’re the reason we lost Hell?”

Chuck huffed, indifferent at the outpouring of information and helped Amara up. “Technically, yes, but then I am the reason anything happens at all.”

For the first time in his life, Castiel saw genuine speechlessness in Gabriel’s face. “You burned Earth? Why? It’s your biggest creation.”

Amara rolled her eyes and sneered at them, holding Dean in her gaze. “We were done with this. This creation. This _ Humanity._”

“There are other experiments,” Chuck said, nodding his agreement. He looked at Dean. “Even when I resurrected everything you ever faced, you still resisted my word. You still survived, though I remedied that in the end. There was no way out of this ending... _And_ you corrupted my son. You made him rebel and secede from his family.”

“It’s not like he was the only one, Dad,” Lucifer said. “I mean… you kinda had that coming.”

“You at least chose to do so of your own free will. It is in your nature, as I created you,” Chuck nuanced. “But you, Castiel… Dean planted doubt in your mind and took you from us.”

Castiel snarled in frustration. “I chose him. I chose all of them over you freely. How could you, Father? I tried to kill myself several times over.”

A surge of desperate empathy and fear washed over Castiel through their bond, as Dean tightened his grip on his hand.

“It never would have come to that. I wouldn’t let that happen to you. It was meant to bring you back to us, Castiel.”

“But you let me believe I was… damaged, broken, mad. I have never felt lonelier than I was as a human. You took them from me. Why couldn’t you just leave me in peace?”

“That was the point, Castiel,” Amara said. “You were supposed to return to us.”

“Instead you ran back into the Winchesters. God only knows,” Chuck sneered, heavy on the sarcasm. “How you all manage to find each other back across the planes, I will never understand, but I have had enough. Even at the end of all things, you still bend reality to your will."

“You broke his mind so he’d come crawling back to you? So you could have the upper hand? What the bloody fuck is wrong with you people?” Dean let out an honest-to-God growl. “Bastards! You think _ he _is a great big bag of dicks? This is where he fucking gets it.” He waved a hand at Chuck as if he was a burning bag of shit.

“Now hold on a minute,” Lucifer frowned, visibly insulted.

Ash spoke up, soft voice cutting through the loud ones. “Is this why none of us, literally none of us ever had memories of our human lives? Nothing beyond nonsense glimpses.”

“Crowley did,” Sam said, as he disengaged from Lucifer’s support.

Chuck scoffed. “Only what I allowed. I made everyone forget. Each and every soul that ever knew you either died or forgot. Like you Winchesters never existed. As demons, you were a new family, but it seems your reputation is woven into the very fabric of reality.”

Castiel saw fury and anxiety fight for dominance in Dean’s eyes, as the roles were reversed and he scrambled to remember _ anything_. 

He spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what they’re talking about, Cas. There’s nothing.”

“Ash is right,” Bobby grunted. “We remember nothing of note. None of us did, not even our scryers.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Amara smiled. “Mary did. She remembered, but she kept it to herself, sly little demon. She chased it down.”

“That’s why she left us?” Sam breathed out.

“Until she found us,” Chuck said.

“It _ was _ you.” Sam and Dean spoke in unison, one a whisper of disbelief, the other a furious snarl.

Castiel put his hand on Dean’s chest and only thanks to his grace soaking through their bond managed to hold him in place.

“We took her out of the equation, because we didn’t need her finding out.”

“I must admit,” Lucifer said, “this is a new level of manipulation, Dad, even for you. Tell me, did you mess with all of us?”

Chuck ignored Lucifer. “How was this allowed to happen, Naomi? You and Michael had clear instructions. The demon trap should have taken care of them.”

“Raziel. He was sent out to confirm. We suspect he lied and we have been unable to track him since.”

“I meant this too,” Chuck said, gesturing at Dean and Castiel’s entwined hands.

At a loss, Naomi shook her head. “We don’t know. Castiel summoned Dean as his guardian.”

Disgust rippled across Chuck's features. “This was not the plan.”

Amara nodded. “So we came back to sort this mess out. To set right God’s plan."

Castiel exploded and rushed forward, letting go of Dean, wings emitting a harsher blue light. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dean keep up without hesitation, wings flaring.

“_God _?” Castiel snarled. “God only exists by the grace of those who believe in him and besides this bunch of fucked up zealots, you’ve managed to alienate the only group that had any business putting their lot in with you in the first place.”

Dean’s voice carried the low rumble of a volcano about to erupt, his hands burning. “Do you really think humanity has any faith left in you after what you did? For all they’re concerned, God left them.”

“I did,” Chuck said, his lips curved in a sad, que-sera-sera smile. “They don’t deserve any better.”

“And that was your mistake,” Castiel said. “Because if they don’t believe in you, who will?”

As he said it he considered his aunt’s weakness alongside the power he felt thrumming inside him, the pulse in his chest that had expanded since his memories returned and strengthened his bond with Dean. Knowing that he and Dean had found each other back across the planes of existence, despite all of Chuck's efforts, even if Dean didn't realise that yet. The bond that proved that even if Chuck didn’t love him as any decent god should, at least the Universe did: it had returned Dean to him.

Lucifer laughed and Castiel hoped he caught on. “You lost your powers the second you turned your back on them and us, old man. And it’ll be your favorite who finishes this.”

Raphael yelled a warning, as Naomi sprang to action. “Castiel, don’t.”

Bobby stepped forward on instinct and before anyone could prevent it, Naomi plunged an angel blade in his chest. Mouth wide, eyes black, Bobby’s outline flickered red. Ash screamed. Before she could do further harm, Lucifer stepped in and held her in place, his eyes glowing red. Sam put the angel blade to Raphael’s throat, before he could involve himself.

“Enough,” Castiel growled, face contorted in fury at the conflict escalating anew. 

He spread both hands, forcing everyone to a halt. It made his hands shake to expend that amount of power, but he dipped into his bond with Dean and as he did so, he straightened up, rolling his shoulders. It hummed through his veins and for a second he wondered if this is what Dean felt all the time. This urge to surrender to destruction.

“I am no longer a pawn to be played with as you see fit. This fight ends here. You took away their memories. You turned the Winchesters who saved _ your _ world over and over and over into _ demons_ , tore their souls to pieces in Hell. You made them forget who they are, what they mean to humanity, what they mean _ to me_. You made us forget everyone we loved. You burned away my free will.”

His voice broke on the last three words and he was crying. “You killed my Jack. You killed their mother. You hunted us down into our home and killed my family, one by one. And then you left us without hope. You rearranged the world out of spite and ran off while they burned, while I fell apart, piece by piece. Whatever claim you think you have left on your creation, it is _ gone_. Your time is up.”

Somewhere during his furious speech, Dean’s fingers entwined with his and Castiel felt their bond's power rushing through the both of them. Dean’s heart was beating as fast as his own as they both focused on using it.

“You gave us free will,” Dean said, a touch of vicious triumph to his voice. “Now watch us exercise it.”

A warm golden light emanated from them and Castiel almost saw the outline of Chuck and Amara being disintegrated by their combined effort. Perhaps it was his mind playing tricks on him, when the view came to a stuttering halt and they seemed to _ reassemble. _

*

As the light faded, a void enveloped them, sucking the sound out of reality. In the back of his mind, Dean swore he heard music, an ethereal voice singing in lament… but he couldn’t tell for sure. Whereas before the world came to a halt, they were now suspended out of time and space. Everyone stood exactly where they had been, but none of them moved, except for him and Cas. Cas’ grace and wings lit the area.

Tendrils of black smoke came slithering into the room from the hallway, from under the windows, from every crack in the building, and twirled around and between everything and everyone. It took him a heartbeat before his senses told him what was coming. He looked to find his family. Sam. Cas. Ash. Bobby’s prone body. John, torn from view, or dead, who knew.

Distant, in the hallway, he heard the disjointed ding of the elevator. _ Charlie_. Fearing for his sister, he looked to the other side of the darkened landscape and saw a pair of determined redheads walk down the pristine white hallway, the smoke billowing behind them, eyes glowing purple. From the elevator, a writhing mass of black smoke oozed out and within, he saw a figure.

“Cas, do you smell that?”

“Yes.”

“I know that smell.”

“You would know that smell,” Castiel said. “You’ve spent enough time in its presence, both in this life and before.”

Charlie and Rowena walked into the landscape, their lips not moving, but the chant audible. Slow but steady, the figure behind them joined, shiny black shoes appearing from the smoke. With every step, a steel-tipped cane ticked on the floor with a delicate sound. The pale hand curled around the top of the cane was adorned by a silver ring with a white stone. An endless black business suit with a black topcoat. A pale thin face broke through the smoke, black eyes the size of sockets. The temperature in the room dropped to the point where Dean saw their breaths on the air.

“Oh, shit,” Dean hissed.

“Yeah,” Castiel agreed. “This could get real ugly real fast.”

“I dunno, Cas, it’s already pretty ugly.”

The chanting stopped and both women snapped out of their trance, when Death wandered through the billowing smoke into the room. He circled Chuck and Amara, solid in their posture. He looked with interest to every silent presence in the room, peering at their faces. Dean noted he touched several of them with just one finger to the forehead, as if pressing their third eye. Slow and deliberate with a great deal of care and curiosity behind it.

“Dean!” Charlie smiled. She bounced over to him, eyes bright. “We found help. Oh… Shit.”

The smile faded from her face. “Is that… Bobby… and…”

“Charlie, don’t,” Dean muttered. “Not yet.”

He pulled her into a hug and registered how sweaty she smelled. Glancing at Rowena, he noticed she too looked exhausted and worse for wear. “Are we sure about this help you found?”

Her voice was tight when she replied and her eyes bounced around the room, trying to avoid the obvious. “Yes… I mean, I think so. Though… Well, you might need to apologise.”

“Why?”

“For killing me, Dean,” Death said, eerie voice loud in the unnatural silence. His head cocked sideways, the way some predatory bird species do.

“I killed you?”

A deliberate nod. “With my own scythe, no less.”

Dean felt queasy and Charlie stepped out of his embrace. “He filled us in on a few things after we restored him.”

“You _ restored _ Death?” Castiel asked. “What are the components for that?”

“Don’t ask,” Rowena said, scrunching up her nose. “It is only right, dear. Life without Death, that’s no way of living. Granted, we might need to make some amends and by we, I mean _ you_.”

“Indeed,” Death said. He enunciated his words, choosing them with care, the judgement palpable. “What a state this world is in. God gallivanting. The Darkness roaming free. The Adversary throwing his own little party with God’s help. The planes of existence destroyed and on fire. Angels who lost their way. Winchester demons.”

“Look,” Dean said, swallowing hard. “I’m not sure how much you know, but I don’t remember my human life. We just lost a shitload of people and...”

“You don’t?” Death interrupted.

Death started walking towards him. Dean shook his head, resisting the urge to back away when he found himself staring into those pits of darkness.

“That’s a pity. Even while I was out of existence, I was aware of reality. You _ died _, Dean, you made it into my realm as did your family. At least until they tore your soul asunder.”

“I guess I did or I wouldn’t be.. this.”

His dark eyes took him in, horns to wings, then travelled to Castiel. “Indeed. As a guardian to an angel.”

“What will you do?”

“First, I will restore what was lost.”

With that, his hand shot out and touched Dean’s third eye. Castiel reached out to him in reflex. His eyes rolled back and everything went black.


	20. And The Righteous Side Of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was cut off by a kiss and his brain went into bliss-mode, his forehead relaxing. He wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck on instinct so he could pull him closer. With a soft protest, Castiel fell to his knees, straddling Dean.
> 
> “Interesting,” Death chimed in.
> 
> To Charlie’s credit, she sounded like she tried to stifle her chuckle, even if her heart wasn’t fully in it.
> 
> “Oh, shit, fuck, balls,” Dean mumbled into Cas’ mouth.

When Dean opened his eyes, the weight of several lifetimes woke with him. His vision was blurry and obscured by an outline that was all too familiar. Two hands were on either side of his face, one giving him a not so gentle slap. Cas sounded deeply pissed off.

“Dean Winchester, do not be dead. Not again. I will summon you back from whatever plane of existence, even if I have to…”

He let out a groan as a sign of life, putting the misery of his returned previous life in it.

“Dean! You’re alive!” 

An oomph sound was squeezed out of him, when Castiel pulled him up from the floor into a sitting position.

“Cas,” he moaned, muffled into Castiel’s neck. “I’m f…”

He was cut off by a kiss and his brain went into bliss-mode, his forehead relaxing. He wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck on instinct so he could pull him closer. With a soft protest, Castiel fell to his knees, straddling Dean.

“Interesting,” Death chimed in.

To Charlie’s credit, she sounded like she tried to stifle her chuckle, even if her heart wasn’t fully in it.

“Oh, shit, fuck, balls,” Dean mumbled into Cas’ mouth. 

They broke apart and Dean allowed himself to register the liquid warmth in Castiel’s eyes. Then reality started to catch up. He scrambled to his feet, pulling Cas with him and checked in with a few things at once.

Everyone, besides himself, Cas, Charlie, Rowena and Death, remained in suspension. His demon form was still in effect. His human memories were back and were swamping his brain to mingle with his demon ones, giving him the headache to end all motherfucking headaches.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean. I’m here.”

“Your dad is a dick.”

Death chuckled at that. “Do you remember now, Dean?”

Dean winced under the strain of the last few hours, but squared his shoulders and stepped forward. “Yeah. Sadly, I do.”

His eyes traced the still life and found the grey form of his father, cradled by Ash. Further down, Bobby, lying on his side. He swallowed, his mouth dry, afraid to ask the question.

Death followed his gaze. “If it’s any consolation, they’ll be reunited, all three of them.”

His throat constricted, Dean nodded, his vision blurred by sudden tears, which he blinked away furiously as he side-stepped the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Expectant black eyes rested on his face, the thin eyebrows raised in a subtle question. Next to him, Charlie sobbed.

“Look, man…,” Dean started, his voice hoarse.

He cast his eyes down for a second, his hands restless as he tried to recollect himself. Castiel leaned his weight into his shoulder. Dean clenched his teeth, gave a shake of his head and shot a murderous look at the angels all-around, eventually landing his eyes on Chuck.

“You should know by now, no one gets between a Winchester and his family.”

“So we notice time and time again. One wonders why people persist in crossing you and your kin.”

Castiel grunted. “Because my dad _ is _ , in fact, a _ massive _dick.”

Dean scratched the back of his head, catching Death’s gaze, and rolled his shoulders as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth I’m sorry I killed you. Looking back, that probably wasn’t the best call. Not that I would have killed Sammy, but y’know, I’ll own it.”

Death nodded, moving his feet until they were all watching the peculiar scene of people frozen in their last emotion. “What would you expect me to do next?”

“I don’t know. Exact your revenge?” Dean said, fatigue audible. “Seems to be what everyone gets up to lately.”

A look of mild disgust. “Death doesn’t do extreme emotions. Death is not rancorous. It would not serve my purpose to be.”

“So you and Dean are cool?” Charlie asked.

Death gave a tight smile that never quite made his eyes. “You still overestimate your own importance.”

“Yeah, yeah, bacteria to you, I remember,” Dean grumbled.

“To me, you are insignificant,” Death nodded. “But it seems to this universe, you are not. None of you are. If this hasn’t made it clear, I don’t know what will. There is something Chuck liked to say. _ There is no escape. No escape from patterns and systems, no exits. Nothing, and no one, resides outside a system; that’s the way it is._”

“And by system, he meant himself, yes?” Castiel said, dissent apparent in his face. “I like to think we broke a pattern.”

“And yet here you are, an angel once more, despite all your acts of rebellion and defection.”

Dean grimaced, the muscles between his shoulders aching. He wanted a bed and Castiel in it. He wanted out of here, away from all of it. He wanted to mourn his parents, all of them, with what remained of his fucked up beyond belief family. He wanted to make sense of his two minds. With the return of his memories came the realization that despite everything, _ everything _ they had done, despite resisting Chuck, despite dying and turning into a demon, they still were not done. He so wanted to be _ done_.

“Did you stop us from killing Chuck?”

“That was them,” Death said, tilting his head to Rowena and Charlie. “Though there is something going on with you that might have made it possible.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel asked.

Death gestured at him and Castiel. “You two reached beyond the planes of existence. God is a husk of his former self… Any belief system is only as strong as its believers’ faith.”

“He has himself to thank for that,” Rowena said, tone snide.

“Again… Why did you stop us?”

Charlie shrugged. “We struck a deal.”

Castiel and Dean groaned in unison.

“Oh, please, no more deals,” Dean moaned. “I…”

“Not like that,” Rowena huffed. “What do you take us witches for? Death here is a gentleman, no demon. It was a civil conversation. Restoration in exchange for a solution. Of sorts.”

“What is there to solve?” Dean asked Death. “What does it matter if we kill Chuck or Amara? They burned the world. It’s lost anyway.”

Charlie shook her head, her eyes flicking from Death to Dean. “Dean, we know better. We always have. It isn’t lost. Not yet. Not entirely.”

Dean could hear the bells of duty tolling once more. His breath left him with a broken sound and he looked up at the ceiling with pleading eyes. “Charlie… I’m tired. I am so fucking tired.”

This drew Death’s attention. “Do you recall what I said about God, Dean?”

He sifted through his scattered memories, until the sound of Death slurping a soda kicked it up. “I do. You said you’d reap God one day.”

For the first time in forever, Death smiled, his face splitting, the skin wrinkling and all present took a small step back. “That day has come. For both of them.”

Cas’ breath betrayed him and Dean saw the fear in his eyes. “But what will we do without him?”

“Even after all that, Castiel?” Death reprimanded him. “You still think you need him?”

“Not for my sake. The universe,” Castiel said. “He created it with her. What will happen to it if they’re gone?”

“You cannot undo the kind of work they’ve done,” Death replied. “It is as real as you all are and equally stubborn in its will to survive, even when faced with the likes of The Adversary. Or Humanity’s stupidity. The Universe will outlive all of it. All of you. But until then…”

“Can we undo it? What he did?” Dean asked. “I mean, we’re the ones who have to live with it.”

Death shook his head. “None of that can be undone. The world will be what it is from here on out. It will be up to Humanity and the remains of you planar creatures to make the best of it.”

A hopelessness came over Dean and this time his shoulders sagged. On instinct, Cas shifted his weight to him, a low hum in his throat that vibrated through their bond. To his other side, he felt Charlie lean in and he looked at her, seeing the tears in her brown eyes.

“I remember too, Dean. We should be dead, but we’re not. Mom knew. Well, Mary knew… Wow, this is confusing, I feel a bit schizo here.”

Castiel squinted. “Join the club.”

Dean put an arm around her.

“Mom remembered..."

Charlie nodded. “She wanted to fix it, I guess, to restore us. She must have remembered… us, before, our humanity. It can’t have been a huge leap to realize someone was fucking with us. That’s why she left. This is as close to fixed as we’re going to get. So we have to take it from here. Right?”

Dean pursed his lips, swallowing the screaming protests. Instead he inhaled and cricked his neck. “So what’s next?”

“I reap God and his sister. I release this world back into its orbit. Then I will go restore some form of order. Life will find a way, for which it does not need God. As your sister said, you take it from here. And somewhere along the way, our paths might converge once more.”

“Might?” Castiel asked.

“Who knows? You died numerous times before. You’re an angel, he’s a demon.”

“Great,” Dean nodded. “Just great.”

The sound of Death’s cane echoed through the strange silence and he stopped between Chuck and Amara. Without another word, Dean felt the world start turning again, flipping his stomach upside down. As Chuck and Amara took a breath, Death stepped between them, his shoulders brushing theirs and with that, their eyes rolled up and they crumpled on the ground, side by side.

The smoke evaporated. Death was gone.

*

Castiel watched as everyone started moving again with the slow deliberate gestures of aching muscles, under the sound of soft confused muttering. Charlie rushed to Bobby’s body. Dean ran up to Ash and they lifted John between them, his arms slung over their shoulders. His head lolled forward.

Ash was in their human form, visibly upset and trembling. “Dean, what… my head. What have they done? Bobby…” Their voice broke.

“I know, Ash,” Dean muttered. “We need to collect our own and bail. Now.”

“Dad!” Sam joined them, grabbing his father’s face. “Dad!”

The next second, Sam groaned and Castiel recognized the face of memories flooding his system. One by one, the demons present got hit. From the look on Gabriel and Lucifer’s face, they suffered something similar.

“What the fuck did you do?” Gabriel asked, when he saw Chuck and Amara.

Naomi rushed forward, sinking to her knees to check on them and the next second, electricity started crackling around her. Lucifer stepped up to her, wings unfolded, eyes red.

“Oh, no, nope, none of that! We are _ done,_” Dean barked. “Cas!”

Dean’s eyes lit up and Castiel felt the pulse rush through him, when he reached for Naomi and muted her powers. She rose to her feet, anger and grief contorting her face as she stared at her uncooperative hands, and tried to attack Castiel again.

“Sleep, sister,” Castiel whispered.

Lucifer’s red eyes widened and he flickered to his human form, as he caught Naomi. “What the Hell, little brother?”

Bent next to Metatron’s body, Raphael gaped. “Are you God now?”

Castiel grimaced. “Why do people keep asking me that? God is dead. And this… all of this,” he gestured at the mess around them, “is done. We are done.”

“But what… What do we do without them?”

“We live,” Charlie replied through her tears. She rose, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and switched to her bright red demon form, her translucent wings spread. Castiel noticed the purple glow in her eyes.

Her gaze flicked to Dean and they exchanged a nod of understanding.

Dean snarled the order. “Let’s get everyone out of here, Cas.”

Eyes locking with Dean, Castiel spread his black wings, his primaries and secondaries shivering, lifted his right hand and snapped his fingers.

*

They reappeared in the Winchester living room. Ash and Dean put John’s body down on the couch. Sam bent to his knees, pleading with his father to open his eyes. Lucifer stood stock-still in the spot he’d appeared. Charlie held on to Bobby, until Rowena spoke to her in soft tones and helped her put his body down as well. Ash joined them. In this fallout, he caught Dean’s exhausted gaze. His insides churning, Castiel started walking around the house, ensuring the wards were in place. Charlie and Gabriel started after him, each muttering in another language, double-checking and sealing the house. Gabriel was limping and lagging behind a bit.

“Cassie!” Gabriel said, his voice rising. “What did you do?”

“I did nothing.”

“One second, dad and Amara are alive, the next they’re dead and I don’t remember how that happened!”

“Sounds like what a lot of us have been going through,” Charlie bit. “You knew what he was doing to us.”

“We didn’t actually.”

Castiel tried to keep the fatigue, the anger, the resignation out of his voice, but failed. “Tell me the Master of Mayhem over there had no idea. Look me in the eye and tell me he knew absolutely jack shit.”

Gabriel winced and was forced to come to a halt. “My memories were messed with… Luci’s as well. You don’t notice he’s quiet? He’s _ never _ quiet. He should be celebrating this, but he isn’t. I mean, I’m sure he’ll recover, but it’s saying something.”

“Death took them,” Castiel said. “Death took our father and aunt. We’re on our own. For real, this time and I for one don’t regret it.”

He looked back when his brother didn’t react and found Gabriel leaning his hands on his knees. When he looked up, he shot him his best smile, a thin layer of sweat on his skin. “Talk about how my head is,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard the rumours,” Castiel said. He hesitated for a second. “At least we are back to normal.”

Charlie let out a sardonic laugh. “Or as close to it as we can ever expect to get.”

“I think we are safe,” Castiel nodded. “No one is getting in but who is currently in here.”

“So we basically adopted two archangels and a witch?” Charlie asked.

Behind them, Dean spoke up. “We adopted you, didn’t we?”

Castiel and Charlie turned towards him. He had rolled up his sleeves and ran both hands through his hair, resting them entwined behind his head. Sorrow was etched into every tired line of his face, as he sighed and let his arms fall to his sides.

Charlie seemed to dodge his gaze when she reacted. “Yeah, you did. I’m still working all that out. The logistics on this...”

She slammed a fist into Castiel’s upper arm. “So does that make you my brother-in-law now?!”

Castiel paled and shot her a look. He tried not to give himself away, but nerves tingled through him. “I don’t know,” he said, looking at Dean as he said it. “Technically Dean and I weren’t ourselves when that happened.”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie scoffed. “Because that never happened before you died and/or switched planes of existence. Might I also point out you kissed him after Death restored his memory and he didn’t shove you off? We all saw that, bro.”

Castiel wanted to ask, because his brain was still processing and he hadn’t found that memory. The one that reassured him that he and Dean had been something more _ before _ Chuck happened. Well… Not really. There was something. A terrifying, bloody, soul-wrenching memory, where his world came together and shattered around him at the same time, as he held onto a bloodied, beaten Dean for dear life in The Bunker…

_ Nononono don’t die stay alive don’t leave me not after that not after all that you can’t die now Dean everyone else is gone they’re closing in Dean I couldn’t I failed you I’m sorry please don’t die please please you can’t leave me knowing that please please _ ** _please_ ** _ … no no… no… _

_ Cas… Cas… Cas I can’t see you anymore Cas I love you Cas I’m sorry I... _

_ … _

_ … _

_ … _

Castiel blinked against the tears the memory released and looked away to hide them.

Dean walked up, patting Gabriel on the shoulder as he passed him. “We got some more farewells to bid first.”

Charlie snapped her head to Dean, mood shifting. “I don’t want to.”

“We don’t have a choice, princess.”

“Queen of Moons,” she corrected, nose in the air. She wiped at her eyes with her sleeves. “Where do demons go when they die?”

Dean’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, his brow creased. “Wherever Mom has been, I guess. All this time.”

“Death…” Keeping his eyes down, Castiel closed and opened his mouth, frowning. “Death did say they were together again.”

“I heard, but that’s easy for him to say.”

Gabriel was still looking at Dean, a peculiar look on his face, but turned to Charlie at that. “What reason would he have to lie? He gains nothing from it.” He shrugged. “Perhaps Death is the one we can believe in now.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry about that.”

“He’s less elusive and less of a dick than God ever was,” Dean offered. “So maybe let’s go make sure we send our own off the right way to him.”

With a sigh, Charlie nodded and started walking, slipping her arm through Gabriel’s to support him. “We cared for you too, you know. _ Before_.”

Castiel heard the wonder in his brother’s voice. “Yeah, I’m starting to remember that.”

“We both died,” she added, noticeably confused.

“That too, but we’re back. Lucky us, huh?”

Castiel looked after them, bemused by this new world order. Then he registered Dean stood still in the hallway, eyes on him. All of a sudden, his heart was bouncing against his rib cage and he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He blinked, unsure of what to say or do.

Dean’s lips curled into a sad smile. “You don’t remember yet, do you?”

Castiel ducked his head and frowned. “Remember what exactly?”

“The end. The very end, Cas. The last seconds of that life.” Dean’s eyes seemed to glow and his chest pulsed in response.

His heart wrenched. “I think I do… It was… I couldn’t…” Castiel huffed and grimaced at his own lack of eloquence. “It’s difficult… to revisit. It reminds me why I asked my father to… After that.” He shook his head. “I had nothing left.”

_ To live for. _

Castiel shoved his hands in his trench coat pockets, chin tucked a bit as he looked up through his lashes at Dean. “So we were. If only in the very end.”

“Yeah,” Dean winced. “Which might have been too little too late, huh?”

“No,” Castiel said, wide eyes snapping to his face. “It was never too late. And it sure as hell was never too little."

This time, Dean’s smile chased the obvious hurt from his eyes and Castiel inhaled sharply. “Who knows, Cas? Maybe it’s what helped us… you know.”

“Find each other here?”

Dean nodded. “I like to think so. We danced around it long enough.”

“Well, thank fuck for that.”

Dean let out a soft laugh, as he stepped into Castiel’s personal space. “Buddy, as fucked up as it is, this bounty hunting has been good for your people skills.”

Castiel squinted, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as Dean’s shadow took away the light. “I still don’t want to be called buddy, Dean.”

“Will angel do?”

“Fuck…”

Dean’s lips claiming his cut him off and relaxed in his fully restored vessel for the first time, he could give in. His arms slid into the trench coat, If only for the briefest of moments, because Charlie yelled after them from down the stairs.

His lips tingled when he let go of Dean’s and he smiled, a touch sad. “We have to…”

“Yeah. We gotta... bury.”

Dean looked at him, his brows knitted together and his eyes shone with wonder, but then the sorrow returned. They fell into shoulder-to-shoulder step to descend the stairs.


	21. I Saw The Devil Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean made pointed eye contact and as he touched their shoulder, he lifted his hand to emphasize his words. “Just… Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
> 
> Ash shot him a sour smile, allowing their demon form to flicker through. “You kids lost enough.”

For your average demon, fire was a way of life. For your average hunter, it meant life had run its course.

Never in his hunter’s life had Dean known a gathering quite like this one. They stood in small groups, profiles caught in the glow of the blazing flames that returned Bobby and John back to the earth’s elements. There was a third symbolic pyre for his Mom.

Two archangels, one of whom had been one of their worst enemies in a previous life, the other killed by Michael in an alternate reality, now stood side by side. Gabriel looked like he had aged in the past day and if Dean was honest, some of Lucifer’s annoying sass had gone out of him. Sam, who had died with him at the end of all things, held on to Eileen, whose life before had been snuffed out by a hellhound. Sam’s lip quivered as he tried to keep his emotions under control. His adopted baby sister, Charlie, dead and not dead in the previous life, alive and breathing next to him. Dorothy, plucked out of Oz and living the Dungeons & Demons life with Charlie. Ash returned from their personal heaven to burn in hell and allowed to survive as a demon. Their eyes were unreadable, wider than usual, in the flickering light. Whatever road lay ahead there, they wouldn’t be alone. Rowena, now his sister's witch mentor and their saving grace they had been to restore Death. Next to him was Castiel, whose presence he now felt even when he didn’t look at him. Cas, who despite his stint as a human bounty hunter, was closer to his original self than any of them were. He had surely clung to it the hardest.

Their parents both dead again. Bobby dead again. Apparently some endings were set in stone, though Charlie insisted it had everything to do with the absence of Chuck and Amara. What was, now was. There were no more backdoors, but Dean had an inkling she might keep looking.

He wasn’t sure which version of themselves everyone was, but it probably didn’t matter. They were here, gathered around the pyres. What words were spoken, what words he spoke, Dean stored away, all the more conscious of the sanctity of memories, even the toughest ones.

Words of confusion, because of the many lives entwined, reeling and converging in this time and place.

Words of gratitude, for the fierce protectiveness that surpassed self-preservation.

Words of frustrated anger and loneliness, at being left behind.

Words of too much heart, respect, stubbornness and a legacy.

Words of promise, which weaved through all the others, words that swore not to waste the chance they were given…

Dean’s body shook, as he lowered his head and wiped tears from his cheeks. Time slipping by, the heat of the fires dwindled carrying whatever was left on the wind. The smoldering embers would remain for hours. By this time, he noticed some of them had broken away. Lucifer was gone. Gabriel was saying goodbye to his siblings and shot Dean a sad wink, before he vanished with the sound of fluttering wings.

Ash was sitting down on the grass and seemed intent on staying, refusing eye contact. Dean’s chest ached at the realization that they were the last one of their generation left. Even if Ash had been closer to his age in a previous life, as a demon they’d very much belonged to the old guard.

When he looked to Cas, he noticed a similar vacant look in his eyes. Dean frowned and let their fingers brush. Dejected, blue eyes snapped to his face and he shook his head at the wordless question.

“Dean?” Charlie called, her voice cutting through the dark of night.

He gestured for a second and walked up to Ash, squatting next to them. “Ash?”

“I am staying, Dean.”

“I know. But come to our house when you’re done here, okay? Don’t… Don’t be alone.”

Their eyes flashed at Dean. “I know. I’m not. But I need to be alone.”

Dean made pointed eye contact and as he touched their shoulder, he lifted his hand to emphasize his words. “Just… Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Ash shot him a sour smile, allowing their demon form to flicker through. “You kids lost enough.”

This reassurance was as good as he was going to get, so Dean nodded. When he turned to Castiel, he was staring from Ash to the fire and back, melancholy etched in every line of his face. They moved towards Baby, Sam’s Dodge and Cas’ Jeep, the means by which they had driven into the middle of nowhere.

Dean held onto Sammy longer than he had in a long time. Charlie allowed him to lift her so her feet dangled for a while.

It was a silent drive back, Charlie and Dorothy nodding off in the backseat while the darkened landscape zipped by. Once home, Dean and Cas maneuvered her to her bed together, gentle reassurances muttered as she sometimes protested and cried, curling up with Dorothy. When they left her room, leaving the door ajar, Dean leaned against the wall, hanging his head and rubbed his hands over his face.

He sensed Cas opposite him for a few quiet seconds, before he crowded closer.

“I have never been this tired before in my life, Cas.”

“I know.” Castiel fluttered a kiss to his cheekbone.

The sound of his wings made Dean open his eyes and found his view filled with Cas’ face that was channeling his wide-eyed concerned innocence. The bags under his eyes undid a large part of the effect. Dean smiled nonetheless and wondered at his reality, when his eyes travelled over the ruffled hair to the gorgeous black wings.

“Are you… showing off?”

“No, Dean, I am stretching them. They feel like they’ve been tied up for far too long.”

“That’s going to be interesting in bed. Not like that, you…”

Castiel flashed a half-hearted smirk, but it faded fast. “I am sure we will manage.”

The ease with which they moved through this house was reminiscent to their time in The Bunker. By now the memories of The Bunker being overrun had solidified in his brain once more. They flicked in and out of his mind’s eye. The prospect of checking out the remains of The Bunker likely lay ahead of them, when they were ready. He frowned at the thought, unsure whether it was necessary to revisit. Castiel, giving him a gentle nudge, chased the thought from his mind and he started to undress. He caught a whiff of himself and made a sound of disgust.

“Oh, Satan’s balls, I need a shower.”

Cas squinted at him, as he took his trench off. “We might want to stop using that expression.”

Dean made his thinky face. “It is a bit weird. Maybe.” He undid his belt buckle and toed off his boots. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“Lucifer? Are you worried about Lucifer?”

“Hey, man, we’ve all been messed with in a way that exceeds everything else. I don’t think the sentiment is out of place.” Dean chucked his t-shirt and ran his hands over his arms.

“You surprise me.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yes, Dean, that’s a good thing. Shower.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at Cas, but got moving, his loose belt clinking. They dumped the dirty clothes in the laundry basket. Castiel messed with the tap until a content sound suggested he found the right temperature and he stepped into the walk-in shower.

“Cas?”

“Hmm?” Cas turned towards him, eyes closed, water sloshing down his face. He wiped his face with both hands, while Dean joined him.

“Should we… clean your wings?”

Castiel actually flustered and Dean laughed, drinking it in. “I… I took the liberty of applying my grace for that.”

Dean stepped into Castiel’s space, lips inches apart. “How dare you?”

Castiel flashed him a soft smile through lowered lashes. “You’re welcome to rub my back,” he said, as he turned around. His tone implied it wasn’t really a suggestion.

With a mock-dramatic sigh, Dean squeezed some of his soap in his hands and splayed them on Cas’ back, taking his time washing off… everything that had to go down the drain. It was almost instinctual, the emotion he put behind it, as he leaned into Cas’ neck, allowing the water to cascade down his own. His fingers dug into Cas’ hair, massaging his scalp.

The shower went beyond functional, taking them longer than perhaps their shared fatigue would have liked, but Dean enjoyed Cas’ rubbing down his back too much to give into it. When he kept his forehead resting against the anthracite tiles, Cas planted a kiss on his shoulder. Then one on his neck.

“Dean, you’re falling asleep where you stand.”

Dean mumbled. “’m fine.”

“I swear to…”

With a unique blend of tender authority, Castiel got them both out of the shower and into towels. Fatigue finally catching up with him, Dean went through the shivering motions of drying himself off, his hair on end. If it wasn’t for Cas holding on to him, he might have stumbled into a door or two on the way to their room. He flopped into the bed, shoving and kicked the blanket open, and opened his arms to Cas. The mattress tilted when Castiel joined him and they slotted together like a two-piece puzzle.

He felt the tug of sleep, but there was just one more thing...

Dean kept his eyes closed. “Hey, Cas?”

A muffled sound was his only reply.

“Please tell me we’re not back to ‘I’ll watch over you while you sleep’?”

Cas held his silence for a few heartbeats too long, during which Dean feared for the answer.

“No, Dean, it feels like I will still sleep. Which is good. I quite like sleeping with you.”

Dean let out a deep sigh, buried his nose in Castiel’s hair, and passed out within seconds. 

*

Waiting for Naomi outside Halting Woofers, Castiel felt guilty for bailing on Dean two days ago, but he’d ensured Charlie knew why, so she could tell him. A) Dean had been completely passed out and too peaceful to disturb. B) He had unfinished business with The Seekers. Or what was left of them. There was also C) he felt guilty for his part in the deaths of John and Bobby, but that was his own business. Charlie protested, but then that was a theme they’d had going for a long time and true to form, he ignored it. It took him a while to get a hold of Naomi, who for all intents and purposes was now the de facto leader of The Seekers. He enlisted help from Raziel and Ash, which was why he also chose this location. Both Ash and Raziel were looking down on him from the top floor.

The lessons he’d learned as a bounty hunter meshed well with his tactical angel experience.

“Good morning, Castiel.”

“Hello, Naomi.”

He looked at his sister. Her night’s rest or lack thereof visibly lingered. The usual self-assured arrogance was gone, though she did not look fearful either. In its place was a guarded fatigue.

“Thank you for meeting me so soon,” he said.

“What do you want?”

Castiel squinted at her and gestured at a stone bench opposite the building. “To lay this to rest. I think we can agree it’s gone on long enough and… well, the price was steep.”

“The two largest powers that ever were and an archangel versus three demons?”

“Humans,” Cas said, voice kinder than he felt. “Demons, who were once humans who tried so hard to make this world a better place, while Dad let it burn. Don’t tell me you never questioned that when he did it?”

Naomi averted her eyes, but he caught the glimmer of tears. “I didn’t know about The Adversary… Maybe Michael did, but I’ll never know for sure.”

“Did you know what he did to me?”

With unusual candor, she looked at him and for once, he could see none of her tells that she was lying. “Not until after the facts.”

He gave it some thought, looking around at the people coming and going around them, the traffic inching by at an aneurysm-inducing pace. Eventually he smiled. “I will not claim to understand why you did it, but I do know… I remember how lost I was after I lost them. I remember what it felt like to have no hope, nothing left and doing the only sensible thing I could… Cling onto what was familiar.”

“I don’t need your pity, Castiel.”

“No, but you do need my mercy,” he said, turning towards her, eyes flashing blue. “If Michael was the brawn, you were always the brains. This ends here. Father is gone, so there are no orders to follow, no plans to carry out.”

She inhaled sharply, a shiver running through her and her left eye twitched. “I know.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Are you enjoying this?”

Castiel smiled at her. “There is an inkling of you reap what you sow to this that I can appreciate.”

“In other words, yes. You always were a little hell-raiser, Castiel,” she said. She shook her head, but Castiel thought he almost heard a fondness in her tone of a time long past. “Have you seen Gabriel and Lucifer?”

“They’ve gone their own ways. Under Winchester protection and off limits. As is Raziel, just so you’re aware.”

“You found him?”

Castiel held his silence.

Naomi crossed her arms and leaned back, pressing herself into the cold stone. “I don’t know… What do I do with this?”

“The offer or freedom?”

“It’s hardly an offer, Castiel, but I would be hard-pressed not to know my own limits. Or chances, if I push this. No, what do I do with this… freedom?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea, Naomi, but that’s the point of freedom and free will. You get to figure it out all on your own. Or with family. Which, just for clarity’s sake, I am no longer.”

“You may want to be careful with that cruelty, brother, it sounds familiar.”

“It’s called a boundary.”

Some of her old self returned and she glared, though whether at him or the world at large, he couldn’t tell. A sense of closure came over Castiel and he gave a content shrug. “I think we’re done here, don’t you?”

With a sharp nod, Castiel watched the pragmatic side of her take over. “Yes, for once I think we’re in agreement.”

She stood, adjusting her blazer and without another word walked away. Castiel watched her vanish in the crowd and remained seated, letting his breathing slow down. He took out his phone to text Raziel, when his phone flickered and Dean’s name appeared. Reason C reared its ugly head and Castiel let it ring for a few heartbeats. How could he explain that some of that self-doubt Chuck had banked his plan on was very much part of him, of his core? It wasn’t going anywhere any time soon and it was a bitch to get a handle on. 

Then he remembered something else… and picked up.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s angry relief was palpable from the first word and he winced. “Oh, thank fuck. I didn’t think you were going to pick up. Goddamnit, Cas!”

“For a second I wasn’t sure either.”

“Are you okay?”

Castiel’s mouth felt dry and he swallowed a few times.

“Cas?”

“I didn’t want to, but then I remembered… what you said about your dad. I didn’t want you to have to feel that way, Dean. I’ll never not hear you.”

“Come home, Cas.”

“I…”

“You had some unfinished business, I know. Charlie told me. And I guess she also told me to give you some space, cause it’s been a shitty few lifetimes, but… yeah. I get it, Cas.”

“No, Dean, you don’t.”

A pointed silence on the other end. “What I mean is.. Yes, it’s been a shitty few lifetimes, but… I got your dad killed, Dean. In fact, I think I got all your parents killed.”

“And I burned the life out of your brother. Bobby killed Zachariah. Metatron died. You saw what it means to be a demon of wrath. It… It isn’t pretty.”

“I know your soul, Dean. You’re beautiful.”

Dean snorted inelegantly and Castiel imagined he might be blushing. 

“We both know Michael doesn’t outweigh John and Bobby. We all agreed Zachariah was an ass. And technically Gabriel took out Metatron, so that stayed in the family.” Castiel snorted. “Bunch of dicks. It’s just… if I hadn’t summoned you, none of this would have happened. If I hadn’t asked Chuck to take me out of the equation, Mary wouldn’t have had to chase it down...”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

Dean sighed. “Listen close, okay? Way I see it, Chuck had us tortured in Hell before you asked for anything. And Mom would have chased that memory whether you were involved or not. That’s just who she was.”

“Perhaps…”

“Not perhaps, Cas. But you can’t keep doing this. We are past the point of you disappearing on me, because you think you failed us. We’ve done it enough.”

Castiel held his tongue, but some of his sass seeped through the silence.

“I can _ hear _ your squint. You didn’t fail anyone. Cas, you _ summoned _ me back into your life. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t even be here having this conversation. You gave us another chance. Now don’t make me bamf over to you.”

A laugh bubbled up at the thought. “I’m sitting on a bench at Halting Woofers. I’m sure Raziel and Ash would approve. By the way, I love how you guys didn’t even bother to come up with a sensible name and just went for a damned anagram of the Legions of Wrath.”

Dean’s hearty chuckle soaking his tone made Castiel smile wider. “So this is how it’s going to be from now on?”

“I seem to recall you once said we were better together.” Castiel got up from the bench. “What’s next?”

“The cabin. I’m bamfing over.”

“Dean, don’t!”

Castiel stared when Dean appeared in front of his nose, the biggest smile on his beautiful face and a duffel over each shoulder. Several people jumped at his arrival and he registered a few screams.

Castiel held his arms wide in disbelief. “You _ packed _?”

Dean opened his arms, bow legs pronounced as he walked closer, his low I-am-hilarious-chuckle distracting Castiel into forgetting to protest. As they bamfed away, Castiel swore he could hear Raziel curse out of the window.


	22. And He Looked A Lot Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been wondering if maybe I should give them up. My wings.”
> 
> There was a tremble in Dean’s hands and the caresses came to a stuttering halt.

Dean sat up, struggling to breathe. He could _ hear _ the air wheezing through his lungs and throat, his blood rushing in an attempt to get oxygen to his brain and convince him _ he was not back in Hell_. His legs were tangled in the sheets and he was slick with sweat. He heaved at the vivid memory of being suspended by chains, screaming for eternity, until there was nothing left. No voice, no tears, no memories, no soul. He _ remembered _ the second his soul broke apart and… fled elsewhere, anywhere but the place where he was forced to give up everything that made his life vibrant in all its chaotic glory. One by one he lost them, the pieces that made up his essence. The last piece he’d given up before losing himself was Sam. The 4th of July.

The orange glow of the lamp made him squint and shut his eyes with a soft groan. The bed shifted when Cas moved. His strong hands helped him disentangle from the sheets. It took a minute before the low sound of Cas’ voice broke through the humming in his ears and the disjointed flashes from Hell and too many memories. His name was on soothing repeat. Dean threw his legs over the edge of the bed, leaning his head between his knees and heaving dry air. A cool hand rested in the back of his neck, massaging the muscle. The weight of Cas against his back grounded him, as did the undulating soothing effect of their bond.

“Dean, you’re safe. Dean…”

He nodded in reflex, muttering “I know” over and over. As his vision focused on the wooden paneled floor, he sat up, his head throbbing. The cool night air sent goosebumps rising and rooted him back in the present. Cas’ legs slid around either side of him, the hair tickling his. His voice rumbled through Dean when he spoke.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing new there, Cas.” He sought out more of Cas’ warmth, cursing the shake in his voice. “Let’s hope it’s just my brain adjusting to the shitload of memories.”

Cas planted a kiss on the back of his neck, his breath tickling his hair. Black wings appeared on either side, enveloping them. On instinct he reached for Cas’ feathers and stroked them. To the beat of their hearts, their bond pulsed, and for lack of a better word, it sounded like music. Perhaps angels singing? He snorted a confused laugh at the choir that materialized in his mind’s eye. Perhaps not.

Yet it was so intense in its insistence that he had to calm down… even if he had wanted to refuse, Dean was sure he couldn’t.

“Is that your doing?”

“What?” Cas muttered into his neck.

“Telling me to calm down? That.. bond we’ve got.”

For a few quickened heartbeats, they sat in silence.

“You feel it too?” Cas asked. “All the time?”

“Well, duh… It’s been getting stronger with time, but ever since we both got our memories back, it’s a bit… intense,” Dean said. “Is it you forcing me to calm down? Cause you can be a bit bossy.”

Cas kissed a trail between his shoulder blades up his spine. “I may be bossy, Dean, but I will never make you do anything you don’t want. Though relaxing in this case would be good for you, I would use other means.”

Dean allowed himself a crooked smile at that and let it seep into his tone. “Good to know. I am trying to understand. I mean, I know you said a more profound bond, but I never thought it’d be this literal. I can _ feel _you, Cas. Pretty sure if I focus on it, like with the prayers… I could hear you.”

He grimaced at where his mind was taking him. There was comfort in their shared connection. That soft, pulsing bond reassured him more than he cared to admit. Or perhaps he was still scared shitless of losing it. Again. A shaky breath made him clench his teeth and he tried to push the thought away.

_ I’m scared of losing you_.

Cas nuzzled behind his ear and Dean leaned into his arms. “I’m real. This is real, Dean. I’m not leaving.”

Swallowing hard, Dean tilted his head backwards, looking at the skies, knowing there was no one left to hear prayers except his guardian angel. That in itself was reassuring enough. “Did I wake you?”

It was the fourth nightmare for Dean in a week. For Cas, he’d counted three. It was as good a way as any to check on whether Cas had been suffering the same fate tonight. He scooted around so he could see Castiel’s face and in doing so caught the mild frown that he failed to hide in time. One leg was folded into Cas’ lap. Dean reached out and with the gentlest touch of two fingers tilted Cas’ face back up.

“Too slow, Cas.”

Castiel shrugged and put his hands on Dean’s thighs, providing an anchor without realizing it. “It’s okay. I had nightmares when I was human. Perhaps they go hand in hand with the ability to sleep.”

Dean stared at his hands as he played with the ribbon on Cas’ pants. Well, _ his _ pants. Castiel’s hands did their gentle absent-yet-so-present caressing, a habit Dean had become entirely too fond of. Dean had noticed that regardless of the weather, Cas’ skin always felt cooler on his. Not ack-get-off-me cold, but a welcome contrast to his own warm skin. Their foreheads almost touched. He smiled at Cas’ scent and inhaled. Whether it was his love-addled brain or Cas’ unique heritage, Dean didn’t care… To him, Cas smelled like a rain-soaked forest, freshly ground coffee, an ocean breeze and the subtle hint of the freesia flowers in their laundry detergent. Tonight, there was a touch of whiskey on his breath, the nightcap they had while talking well into the night. It drew him in. He was aware of Cas leaning closer and smiled, eyes cast down, as he gave his lower lip a conscious lick.

Cas butterflied his lips to the corner of Dean’s mouth and kissed a trail to his ear. Dean breathed in through his nose, humming into his lips as he felt Cas reach out to him through their bond. Willingly, he opened up and allowed the sensation of it to chase away the nightmare’s anxiety.

*

Castiel sat star-gazing by the side of the babbling river. The nightmares had started the first night in the cabin. For both of them. A barely smoked cigarette lay, crushed out, in a discarded ashtray. Somewhere along the way, after Dean became his guardian, he’d smoked less and less. The reflex to reach for them under stress remained, but when he’d lit it, his system balked.

Through the fabric of his slacks and the blanket, he felt the cool of the Earth. Autumn was on its way, but the scent on the air told him summer had a last fling in store. When the wind picked up and teased his wings, he let out a deep sigh and shut his eyes. The sun would soon be peeking over the tree line and was likely to wake up Dean, as they had left the windows and curtains open last night, compensating for the night’s chill with an extra duvet. The comfort levels were through the roof and Castiel found he did not mind.

Circling his arms around his knees, he closed the fingers of one hand over the wrist of the other and bowed his head, allowing the breeze to caress his neck. Goosebumps travelled his skin. He reveled in the silence, both within and without. It dawned on him that Dean, this Dean, his whole Dean was the only one… to ever quiet his mind. One of many contrasts with Before. Considering how often they had died, it would be a stretch to call this a second chance, but Castiel deemed it their final one.

No more deus ex machina. No more chances. A version of eternity lay within reach. Or a human life.

He smiled when he heard the yawn coming from inside the cabin, his chest pulsing with the laziness of a barely there consciousness. Twisting his torso, he lifted his right wing, slow and deliberate, so he could see. Dean was stretching, comfortable in his demon form, and scratching his stomach with one hand. When he spotted Castiel, he rolled his shoulders and leaned on the window sill. Castiel’s heart expanded in his chest and he knew Dean could feel it. Whatever that bond was, it had chosen to remain. Another thing he kept in mind when trying to decide what to do next.

Dean beamed a smile his way and turned towards the bathroom. With a subtle shift of his shoulder muscles, Castiel put his wings back to their neutral position. He watched the sun rise above the tree line and narrowed his eyes, as present in the moment as he’d been in recent events. The gentle creak of the cabin door drew his attention and he listened to Dean walking closer.

From his periphery, he saw a peculiar vision move in. His eyes went cross-eyed when it stopped close enough to smell its contents. A cup of fresh coffee was presented by a demon tail looped through the handle. Castiel glanced to the side and found Dean in his demon form, except for the wings. Dressed in only his bathrobe and underwear, Dean was watching him with a thousand yard look in his eyes, as he sipped his coffee. Castiel smiled, realizing what had Dean so enthralled.

Dean grimaced when he felt it too. “I can’t believe I missed out on your wings for so many years.”

“They were always _ there_,” Castiel smirked. “You just… perceived them differently.”

Dean cleared his throat, his eyebrows shooting up as his eyes darted away. The crinkles at his eyes appeared as he smiled into his mug.

“Didn’t you?” Castiel asked.

“Do you really think we’d have had that, y’know, ‘I admit my love for you at the end of all things’ moment, if I hadn’t been something of a sucker for you before?” He made his ‘duh’ hand gesture. “For a good while.”

The thought was charming and disheartening all at once. “You mean to say we wasted years?”

Dean gave a mild shrug, but Castiel recognized the frown as his self-deprecation at work. In silence, at least, but he’d still have none of it. He put some of their bond’s power behind his words when he spoke.

“Stop that.”

Green eyes snapped to attention with mild annoyance. He pointed at Cas, his index finger curling around the mug. “Hm? _ That _ is an unfair mechanism, Cas.”

Their bond was getting stronger with every passing day, adding unique layers to their interaction. They had promised not to abuse it, fervently, but it seemed to lead a life of its own, almost as if it enjoyed their intimacy and thrived on it.

“I wouldn’t call it a mechanism. I’ve been thinking about it. Maybe it’s a unique kind of grace? Demon and angel hybrid.”

Dean gave an accommodating nod. “Possibly. I felt your nudge though.”

Castiel grinned. “I intend to use it to its full extent if it means you will cut yourself some slack. Without forcing you into anything. It’s behind us. We’re here now and the playing field has changed.”

The whirring cogs in Dean’s head visible in his expression, he put his mug down on the ground and gestured at a spot behind Castiel. “May I?”

A jolt of anticipation shot through his body, hoping he read Dean’s intentions right and he nodded, setting his own mug next to Dean’s. The blanket shifted when Dean settled behind him, one foot to his right side, the other curling behind his ass. Castiel sensed his demon form fading and a pair of gentle human hands hovered over his wings.

“Ahh…. Dean.” He sighed, his wings trembling and inching into the touch on instinct.

He forgot about time for a while, eyes closed, while Dean ran his fingers through his feathers. There was a gentleness to every gesture that healed wounds he didn’t know needed tending. A tenderness he’d longed for, for what now seemed like forever. Touching his wings was a whole other matter to touching his skin. His chest was warm, as he sank into the moment, the physical contact and the cushioning feel of their bond.

His mind was actually on the fence whether their bond was inherently tied to their true nature. A hybrid kind of grace was a charming thought, but it was mainly the undeniable reality of his bond with Dean that did it for Castiel. He wondered if Dean would now be able to handle seeing his true form, all six wings, his voice… and at the same time, his insides lurched at the thought of being roped back into endless wars, _ because _ of what they were capable of. He knew on an intimate level how _ done _Dean was, but Dean's resolute sense of duty threatened to overwrite his self-preservation to this day. Castiel’s fatigue had increased ever since the last confrontation, as if several lifetimes’ worth of it had finally caught up with him and it threatened to send his anxiety spiralling.

“I’ve been wondering if maybe I should give them up. My wings.”

There was a tremble in Dean’s hands and the caresses came to a stuttering halt.

Dean’s voice came as a plea just south of a whisper. “Please don’t.”

Castiel opened his eyes, staring at the gradient of green-yellow-orange colors in the trees. “Why not? I didn’t want to be an angel anymore… I am not sure that has changed. It means… I fear it means I will never be able to stop. That we’ll never…”

That familiar shielding tone snuck into Dean’s voice, the one he used when he was keeping something to himself. “I dunno, Cas. I’m still your guardian and I might sleep sounder knowing you can defend yourself.”

“A, you don’t sleep soundly. Not often anyway. B, I believe I was your guardian first.”

“As a demon prone to violent outbursts with a lot of collateral damage, I can only encourage having a kick-ass angel as my guardian.”

“Cute deflection, Dean. Think about it. We could live a normal life or something close to it. If we both did…”

He caught himself and reached back for Dean, putting a hand to his thigh and gave him a squeeze. “I am not expecting or assuming anything. It’s just… a possibility. If you want.”

Behind him, Dean shook his head with vigor. “I’ll be damned if I…”

He could _ hear _Dean’s teeth grinding. “If you what?” he asked, tone gentle.

“I couldn’t save you last time, Cas. My human form couldn’t cut it.”

Despite being outside, some of the oxygen went out of the air.

“Oh, shit,” Castiel exhaled on a whisper. “Fucking hell, Dean, because your human form couldn’t _ cut it _? You went through more than any one human should in a lifetime!”

“And I still couldn’t save you.”

“What? You’re the one who died.”

“My point, Cas! I died, you didn’t. I’ll be damned if I leave you behind again.”

“That has nothing to do with our powers.”

Dean’s muscles tensed under his touch. “Excuse me? It has everything to do with them. I challenge anyone to show up, right here, right now and ambush us. See how well that fucking goes.”

Castiel let out an anxious sound at the thought of intruders. “That’s what I mean. It isn’t our powers. It’s what we get up to. I… Will you…?” Frustrated he tripped over his words and settled on a question Dean hadn’t been asked enough in any of his lives. “What do _ you _ want, Dean?”

Dean’s fingers buried in his wings suddenly and the heat behind them surprised him. It was fueled by their pulsing bond and Castiel’s heart sped up at the exhilarating effect it had on him. He gasped and his wings twitched into Dean’s hands. Like his heart overflowed with what had been restored. There was an intensity to Dean’s emotions that words would always fail to grasp: deep loyalty, unflinching honesty and a love that was able to paint the sky with stars, reaching beyond time and space. Weaving through the unwavering stability that was Dean, Castiel felt a sadness he didn’t understand and which all of a sudden brought him to the brink of tears.

He blinked a few times, putting pressure on Dean’s thigh, the hair tickling his skin. Dean scooted closer, Castiel accommodating him by curving his wings lateral to his legs, until they were pressed together. Dean planted a long kiss in the back of his neck, nose nuzzled into his hair. His heartbeat was tangible against Castiel’s back and he leaned into him. He felt Dean breathe in a few times as if he meant to speak, but failed to find the words. Castiel waited it out, nervous without knowing why. Would it make a difference to Dean if he gave up his wings? A bout of fear made to coil around him, but Dean’s soft words stopped it in its tracks.

“I like you whole, Cas.”

Castiel breathed out.

There it was. Despite all he’d been through… Dean, his Righteous Man, his demon guardian, insisted on holding space. For him. For Charlie. For Sam. For everyone he held dear. Except perhaps himself.

“Then what about you?” Castiel asked.

The mutinous lilt slipped in. “What _ about _ me?”

“You were human once. Would you not want to be ‘restored’?” He made air quotes with one hand.

“I have been. My soul is as whole as it ever was. And let’s be fair…”

Castiel felt the lips pressed into his skin curl into a smile. Allowing himself an eye roll, Castiel tilted his head to the side, catching a glimpse of an amused green eye and a glimmer of burgundy skin. “Do tell.”

“I make one hell of a demon, Cas.”

Laughing, Castiel turned around, pushing Dean onto the blanket and kissing him. Dean gave in to his full demon form, wings flaring and folding within Castiel’s, exuding warmth. A pleased chuckle escaped Dean as his hands slid up Castiel’s legs and wrapped around his waist, his fingers buried in the soft feathers between his shoulders. Castiel looked at him and gave a gentle nose boop, drowning in Dean’s eyes, aglow in the morning sunlight. His black wings flared and curled around Dean’s, shielding them from the world. He slowly inched in and kissed him.


	23. Closer Every Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash lifted the grill a few notches higher and walked over, wiping their hands on the towel. “Announcement time?”
> 
> “Well, more of an offer, I guess?” Charlie said, palms outward. Dean recognized the signs of nervousness in his sister.

Eventually they had to break through their epic hermit levels. They kept in touch with the family throughout, but cocooned themselves in the cabin and its surroundings for weeks. Dean worked on ‘a project’ in the garden Cas wasn’t allowed to look at too closely. They tended the garden in preparation for autumn. Cas ordered bee hives. They fixed up the cabin, repairing the fire damage and the front door.

Cas heard from Gabe. Dean touched base with Sam, Charlie and Ash. It took a miffed phone call from Charlie and a diplomatic one from Sam to draw them out. That and the promise of meat on the barbeque.

The front door to the Winchester house was ajar when they arrived. Judging by the sounds drifting in from the garden, Charlie and Dorothy were arguing about whether to light the barbeque the human way or not. Dean chuckled.

“I’ll be right there. I’ma go grab some of my stuff and put it in Baby’s trunk.”

“Lest you forget once we start eating and gaming.” Castiel nodded. Dean stole a greedy kiss, before Cas sauntered off to the back.

Dean walked upstairs and a sense of melancholy nagged at him. Moving stuff out of the parental house had never felt this conscious. Previous lives had adhered to a different type of logic. He himself had adhered to a different logic. Whatever train of thought he had hoped to hop on was successfully vaporized when his hand closed around the door knob and a bra. Frowning, Dean nudged the door open.

The view was something akin to the inside of Charlie’s tent at her LARP events. He cursed and laughed at the same time, as he walked to the window and opened it. Leaning on the window sill, he watched The Three Stooges try to best the barbeque. They were in the process of assembling it. Charlie had insisted on buying a new one, now that the family was growing. Never mind that Eileen wasn’t popping any time soon, the kid was already at the table in spirit. Amidst the fading colours of summer, they looked like a picture out of a chick flick with a dash of rom-com. Dean wanted to roll his eyes, but found he couldn’t when his eyes landed on Cas. He had taken off his trench and rolled up his sleeves, hair a mess. Always a mess lately, which Dean took full credit for.

He knew what Cas had been trying to say a few mornings ago. On an instinctive level, he knew.

Charlie had insisted on celebrating one of the last days of Indian Summer together, mainly because she liked to interpret it as a sign they were pushing back The Adversary and undoing some of his effects on Earth. Dean wasn’t convinced, but given the last twists and turns in his life, he was willing to give hope its last chance.

“Hey, Princess!” he yelled.

Cas stood up and squinted at the sun until his face relaxed with a smile when he spotted Dean. Charlie ignored his voice, but Dorothy at least had the decency to look up. Dean dangled one of the bras in his hand and got flipped off with the sweetest red lipstick smile he’d ever seen. He scoffed.

“_Bradbury_, you took my room? I still have stuff here!”

His sister rose with eyes that shot fire and shook her screwdriver at him. “Dude! I am a _ Winchester_! And you haven’t slept here in weeks. Whatever is still there, I’m sure you don’t need it.”

“Besides,” Dorothy called. “You’ve got everything you need. You have _ Cas_.”

She managed to put a lilt to her tone that made it sound dirty, as she flung her arms around Cas’ neck and draped a leg around his waist. Dean caught the slightest inching away behavior in Cas’ body language.

“Hands off the angel, Oz! You make him uncomfortable. And don’t give me that! You moved in within a _ week _.”

“What did you expect? Have you _ seen _the size of that table inside? Minimal changes made and we have ourselves an actual gaming table. Cup holders and all.”

“Better make the seats personalized too. I ain’t giving up my place in this household.”

Dorothy’s snorted laughter suggested he was way off the mark. “Like you two are ever leaving that love nest. I can see the love marks in your neck from here!”

“Shut up,” Dean sneered with a smile in his voice.

He slammed the window shut and went about the business of locating the stuff he wanted to take _ home_.

He dug up a box of old cassette tapes Cas insisted he wanted to listen to. Some books about gardening he knew by heart, but Cas might like. A bunch of clothing that would alleviate the amount of laundry they would have to run in the dark half of the year.

As he exited his room, the thought occurred to him Dorothy probably wasn’t wrong.

He balanced everything in his arms and walked the cargo to Baby. They had already made a pit stop at Cas’ apartment for several household effects. They also checked in with the real estate agent who was responsible for selling the place. There was an ease between them, something new in their interaction that allowed some things to go smoother. Smoother than Dean ever considered possible in his life.

There was no more reservation in his mind whether to keep his powers. For Cas’ safety, for Sam and Charlie’s and for whatever still lay ahead.

*

Dean squinted at the low sun and popped his sunglasses down from his hair. He leaned back with a sigh, patting his stomach. Three plates. Barbeque. The day had flown by, allowing for some much-needed catching up. Eileen and the baby were doing splendid, the woman oozing that famed glow. Off-set by her no-nonsense mild TMI moments about the reality of pregnancy. He could _ see _ the horror in Charlie’s eyes at the details. Sam hovered around her, like a giant overprotective pup.

Ash stood behind the fully functioning barbeque, proverbial pitch fork in hand, towel over their shoulder, at ease in their demon form as they handled the last batch of meat. It was too much, even for a family of demons. Old habits… A twinge of regret at doing the math there. They had talked about their dead, but in that meandering way that makes conversations sway and tilt without derailing them.

Despite being behind the barbeque, Ash looked paler than Dean liked. But they were here and eating.

For a while, none of them had gotten through to Ash. All they’d done was throw themselves at their work. It wasn’t until Raziel got in touch with Dean that he’d relaxed about it. His angelic supervisor was the reason he and John had survived the demon trap. Gabriel had eventually managed to locate him, hiding out with the Asgardians. He hadn’t been in on the huge scheme… just another angel who lost his way. On the phone Raziel had expressed his guilt and promised to make amends, however he could. Now he worked close with Ash, which was as good a way as any to repent. Slow but steady. They had buried enough people to know not to force each other’s process.

Ash was staring at the size of the grill, a look of wonder on their face. “Charlie, sweetheart?”

Charlie looked up from her potato salad with hamster cheeks. “YeF?”

“How many babies do you expect in this family? I mean, statistically speaking, the odds aren’t in our favor. Unless you all start adopting.”

Cas started coughing and wheezed when the beer went up his nose. “Adoption?” he croaked, Dean patting him on the back.

“Hey,” Charlie said, gesturing at herself. “You could do worse.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, I think we might have some other shit to sort out before we think of involving kids.”

Next to him, Sam leaned his weight into him. “Still nightmares?”

Dean scowled at Cas. “Does everyone know?”

“Yes.”

“Not even a _ hint _ of shame. That’s cold.”

Cas licked the grease off his fingers, speaking around them. “If you lie down with the Devil… Isn’t that the expression? Besides you gave the opening.”

“True,” Dean admitted, as he sipped his beer, trying not to focus on Cas’ mouth. “Except I ain’t the devil. Speaking of, anyone know how Luci is doing? I mean, we heard from Gabe.”

“Gabe has been good,” Cas nodded. “He’s been working with Crowley. They get along disturbingly well. And I think he is putting the moves on Lady Thor.”

“Of course they would,” Eileen signed. “Mischief all over the both of them. It’s good work they’re doing. Crowley has been sending us clients.”

“So nothing on Luci?”

Sam cleared his throat. “I’ve kept a finger on the pulse.”

“You have?” Charlie asked. “After everything he’s done…”

“He’s still not as bad as Chuck was and he helped us in the end,” Sam finished her sentence. “He isn’t at this table, so we haven’t adopted him. And I’ve talked to him a few times since. Something shifted. It would be dangerous to say something broke, but…”

“It is a touch weird, though?” Dorothy asked. “He possessed you. Haunted you, if I understood Charlie well.”

Sam gave a mild shrug, his eyes belying his age by a few lifetimes. “There comes a point where you move past it.”

Eileen leaned forward, a flurry of gestures following. “He was never free until now. Maybe he does not know what to do with it now that his own adversary is gone.”

“But is he?” Charlie asked. “He never was when Chuck was alive. Everything he did was determined by his emotions towards his family. Maybe he still is.”

Dorothy nodded. “Kinda like you guys were… Making you fate demons was nothing but a cruel joke. And technically the fight isn’t over.”

Dean’s breath caught, when in his chest he felt Cas tense up with fear. He frowned and reached for Cas’ hand. Cas frowned right back and refused to meet his eyes, lips pursed, jaw clenching.

“Except we broke through his manipulations,” Sam said. “Despite whatever limitations Chuck thought he’d implemented in his new world order, we stuck together… We got Cas back. I mean, come on, Destiel is finally real.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up at the moniker and he smirked, remembering a musical in another lifetime, as Sam continued. “And… I don’t know. Yes, Lucifer’s still a bit of a douche, but… he’s kinda our douche now?”

Sam looked to Dean. The behavior they had registered when heading into The Seekers’ lair to get Cas back finally made sense, to an extent. Lucifer had sided with Sam, had kept him safe and alive. Whether this was because he remembered Sam had been his vessel once, no one knew for sure. Those days were behind them.

Dean nodded. “Luci has no more business considering Sammy his vessel and with ‘Dear Old Dad’ out of the picture, he is technically free to make his choices… Whether he’ll be able to is another matter.”

Eileen gestured, a hand on the beginning of her baby bump. “You don’t have to be ruled by fate. You can choose freedom. Lucifer can. All of us… This baby is the first of its kind in this family. We have to believe fate has no hold on him.”

Dean tilted his head at her in curiosity, eyes twinkling.

“Or her,” Eileen added, as she stuck out her tongue.

Charlie pointed at Eileen, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Now that, I can get behind. Dean!”

Her sudden energy burst scared the heebie-jeebies out of Sam and his brother scrambled to prevent his beer bottle from falling. Dean chuckled and gave his sister a few, interested slow blinks. “Yes, Queen of Moons?”

“In every lifetime, no less. Ash, come here, will you?”

Ash lifted the grill a few notches higher and walked over, wiping their hands on the towel. “Announcement time?”

“Well, more of an offer, I guess?” Charlie said, palms outward. Dean recognized the signs of nervousness in his sister.

Everyone scooted around in their chairs, all eyes landing on Charlie, who walked to the head of the table. She picked up her bottle and clinked a knife to it, lips pursed in a smile.

“Such a dork,” Dorothy said, fondness in her tone.

“I get it from my brother.”

“Which one?”

“Both,” Cas said without hesitation.

“Winner,” Charlie winked. “Okay, let’s get this over with. Speaking in front of people, like, what is this even?”

When Ash shot her a look, she rolled her eyes and waved impatient hands. “I know, I know, I’ll have to get used to it. So, in case all that didn’t give it away… This wasn’t just an end of summer family barbeque, though I hope we can do many more. Like a good demon, there was an ulterior motive. Dean. Cas.”

She gestured at them, her brown eyes turning warm like melted chocolate.

Puckering his brow with interest, Dean folded his arms on the table in front of him. Cas just leaned forward and into him, hands under the table, curiosity erasing some of the fatigue lines, his expression one of openness.

“We are also here for you. Yes, Dean, we know about the nightmares… how hard it’s been. For all of us.”

She looked at Ash, who held her eyes and proceeded to look at the family one by one.

“We’ve lost so much. Perhaps it was always written that way, but Mom didn’t think so. She chased it down. And you, Cas… You found your way back to us, even though Chuck tried to make it impossible. You called Dean to you and with him, you brought us back together. Yes, we’ve lost so much, but… don’t tell me this isn’t our last chance. The one that matters the most. I still don’t know where demons go when they die now that Hell is lost, but I know Bobby and Dad are looking over us with Mom. They have to be.”

Her voice quivered and Dean swallowed, his throat constricted. Under the table, Cas squeezed his knee. Charlie sniffled and shook her hands, making eye contact with Dorothy. She took a few breaths and continued.

“We’ve been talking a lot, while you were holed up in your love nest doing Satan knows what,” she smiled through her tears. “We need new expressions by the way, cause both Chuck and Satan hit a bit too close to home. That aside… Ash and I have been talking amongst ourselves, with Raziel and Crowley, Gabe and Thor to flush out their leak. Loki, who knew?”

Ash cleared their throat and shot Charlie a gentle ‘get on with it’ look.

“Rambling. Yes. I know. Anyway… Eileen is right. We don’t have to be ruled by fate. And I still believe that's something worth fighting for,” she said, looking at Cas as she said the words.

Charlie squeezed her palms together when she made eye contact with Dean and she looked every bit the ten year old little sister who had taped over one of his favorite cassette tapes. “I was taken out of the running way too early. I never should have died. Twice. But you two… Oh, boy,” she sighed. “You two have done enough. Don’t you think?”

The question set Dean off on a wave of emotions, his insides churning. Cas’ eyes flicked to his face and Dean’s heart wrenched with the ocean-deep hope he read in them. It echoed what his soul longed for, screamed for, begged for, had been begging for ever since Cas had first opened up about early dawn breakfasts, open windows and crackling fires. In his chest, their bond started to hum at an alarming frequency. He folded his hands together in front of his mouth, leaning his elbows on his knees, to look back at Charlie. She continued.

“We believe you did. You’ve died over and over, you’ve denied yourself so much for the sake of a world that doesn’t deserve you. The world needs the Winchesters, that’s true. But that doesn’t mean it has to be you. It’s time. It’s time the torch is passed on. That is, with your blessing, Dean, I’d like to take up the mantle of Winchester matriarch.”

For a few seconds, he held her eyes. Deadly serious, all joking gone. Asking to put her life on the line. When had his sister turned into him and Sam? Who was he kidding… A Winchester through and through. It’s why she died the first time. And at the end of all things. This time around she was a demon with an army at her back and one of the most powerful witches in her corner.

On instinct, Dean looked to Sam. His brother’s eyes were red-rimmed as he tried to keep a lid on his emotions. All it took was the smallest smile, a soft huff and a nod to convey how he felt. Her hands pressed together in a gesture of supplication, Eileen beamed at him and Cas. When he looked at Ash’s solemn eyes, he knew Bobby and every missed chance was on both their minds. Dorothy leaned back in her chair, her hands cupped behind her head, the hugest Cheshire-cat smile on her face. Her eyes however were softer than he’d ever seen them.

His jaw clenched as he turned to Cas. He knew what he’d find.

Cas’ eyes were lowered, his expression guarded. Okay, perhaps not what he’d expected? Then Cas looked up. There it was. Hope amplified. Laced with dread. He knew Cas well enough to read every line, the hopeful subtlety in his eyebrows, the gentle widening in those impossible blues, the tug at the corner of his mouth, the way he swallowed, trying to pretend he would be fine with whatever Dean decided yet dreading the possibility Dean would refuse.

Dean remembered dying in Cas’ arms. The last thing he’d seen in his human life had been Cas. Broken, alone and begging him not to leave. He remembered every damn thing Cas had ever done for him, for Sam, for everyone he ever loved. He remembered the bottomless pit of loneliness soaked through Cas’ voice when he’d confronted Chuck, transferred to him through their bond. His demon form flickered with the protective urge, but he held it under control. Taking a few breaths, he swallowed his dry mouth.

Holding Cas’ eyes, Dean parted his lips to speak, voice low and soft.

“Yes.”

He heard Charlie’s confused “Wait, he said yes?” and then his senses were overpowered by Cas. Cas, who grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him, giving zero fucks about the onlookers. The salt of tears registered on his lips and tongue, but he couldn’t tell whose they were. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, his guardian angel and held him close, where he belonged.

Cas whispered into their kiss. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

It was Oz whose comments made it through the haze first. “I can see tongues. Is this necessary?”

Ash chuckled, but the relief was audible. They broke apart, flushed and Dean was aware of their breaths. He felt a blush work its way up from his chest and saw Cas’ obvious amusement. He blinked a few times at the suggestion behind those not-so-innocent eyes.

“So for whose sake did you just say yes?” Sam asked, drawing Dean’s mind away from the gutter. Barely.

Dean side-eyed his brother, as he kept one arm around Cas’ waist. “Believe it or not, both of us.”

“That’d be a first.”

He released his megawatt smile, wiping a sleeve over his cheek. “Yeah, it would be. About damn time too. You,” he said, pointing at Charlie as he stood up. “C’mere.”

They met halfway and he wrapped her in his arms, his chin on her head. After a few heartbeats, he shifted his head so his lips were close to her ear. “You sure about this, Charlie?”

She nodded and he could tell she was crying. “Hey, hey, hey, come on.” He cupped her face in his hands, wiping the hair out of her face. “What did I do?”

“It’s about fucking time, you _ idjit _,” she said through her tears. “I was scared you were gonna be a dumbass like…”

“Like Dad?”

She nodded, wiping her cheeks. “Oh, geez Louise, this family…”

He pulled her into another hug. “I love you.”

“I know,” she replied, the sound muffled in his chest.

He gave her another tight squeeze and they stepped apart. Charlie shook her hair and let out a deep sigh, before heading back to her seat next to Dorothy. “Can we start the game? I don’t think I can handle more of the real life emotions. I’m breaking out the whiskey.”

Dean walked back to Cas and sat next to him. “Mind you,” he said, as he entwined his fingers with Cas’. “I _ am _holding on to my powers. No one is ever getting the drop on us again.”

Cas smirked, eyes narrowed. “It was never about our powers. I’ll be keeping my wings.” His voice lowered noticeably as he leaned into Dean. “It seems only fair I don’t deny you that pleasure.”

Dean’s ears got stupid warm and he tried to scowl, but failed, because he was grinning like an idiot. They started piling up plates, glasses and leftovers, to make their way inside towards a long-awaited D&D game.


	24. To The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dammit, Cas! Do you want me to pull over?!”

It had been near 4am when they said their game-tired, happy, drunken goodbyes to Charlie and Sam. Eileen was asleep in Sam’s old room and Dorothy had wandered her merry singing way to the shower. The ride home was taking too long, which had everything to do with Cas’ hand in his pants and his teeth grazing his ear lobe.

Heat travelled his nerves like a flame on oil, flooding his core. Squeezing his hands down on the wheel, he tried to lean in and capture Cas’ lips. Every time, Cas leaned out of reach, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. Dean let slip a string of curses, when Cas leaned into his lap and took him in his mouth. Baby swerved dangerously as he kept one hand firm on the wheel, the other digging into Cas’ hair on instinct. He wasn’t sure whether to push or pull at it.

“Dammit, Cas! Do you _ want _ me to pull over?!”

Cas hummed, the back of his throat vibrating against the tip, which sounded sassier than it should for someone whose mouth was full. With the heat of Cas’ mouth, the fervor behind it, Dean was sure he wouldn’t last long. He suppressed the growl that threatened to claw its way out and pulled Baby to the side of the road. She came to a rickety halt and he apologized to her in silence. His brain remembered the importance of stepping on the parking brake, before he leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, legs falling open, clenching fists against his forehead for Cas’ sake.

Cas’ hand shoved his shirt up, his tongue circling his head as he took him in deep. One hand snuck back into Cas’ hair, in warning. “Cas! I’m… kinda close…”

With a wet pop, Cas emerged, his hair tousled every which way, lips swollen. “Not yet…”

Pupils blown wide, Dean slowed his breathing as best he could, rubbing the back of Cas’ neck, his brain trying to catch up. “What?”

Cas kissed him and then Dean was puckering his lips at thin air. The fluttering of wings tipped him off. “Did you just…”

He opened his eyes and through the rear view mirror caught sight of Cas on the back seat, a wicked grin on his face as he started to unbuckle his pants. Mesmerized, Dean watched him, breath loud in the quiet of Baby, parked at the side of an empty road. With slow, deliberate gestures, Cas undid his shirt, revealing tanned skin inch by inch. He licked his lips, holding Dean’s gaze through the mirror. 

Giving in with a groan, Dean bamfed himself across the ridiculous distance into Cas’ lap. Cupping his face, he kissed him. With an eager inhale, Cas’s lips parted and Dean flavored him, moaning into his mouth. He held their kiss as Cas’ cool hands roamed, setting his skin on fire. He let out a low appreciative growl when Cas covered the mark on his shoulder with his hand, the handprint throbbing.

The pulse in his chest rippled like water, urging them on. With combined efforts, they sent clothes flying through Baby, the trench draped between the front seats. He bumped his head several times and Cas fell over with a snicker when he wrestled his socks off. Basking in the feeling of skin on skin, Dean grazed his finger nails down Cas’ ribs and splayed his hands across his thighs, thumbs drawing circles on the inside. Cas pulled him closer between his legs and buried his fingers in his hair, his tongue lapping and tracing across his collarbone, his neck, leaving marks over existing marks. His hands travelled down Dean’s back, cupping his ass and squeezed.

“Cas, yes…”

An exclamation in Infernal slipped out when Cas bit down on the trapezius, hips thrusting up into Dean. The air between them was warming up and Dean felt sweat breaking out across his body. Something was different in the dynamic and Dean leaned into it hungrily, wanting to claim his angel. Rolling his hips, their erections rubbing together, Dean buried his face in Cas’ neck, kissing and nipping, smiling at the sounds he drew from those lips.

“Dean.”

Dean held still, leaning into the nudge Cas gave. His eyes were caught on Cas’ lips, and he put his fingers to them. Cas’ eyes darkened as he caught on and parted them, taking in Dean’s fingers and sucking them. With a wicked smile, Dean shifted until he could reach between them and slid one finger inside. He didn’t really need to prepare himself, with Cas’ grace back in the game, but nevertheless found himself fucking down on his fingers, Cas watching every second of it, his eyes like black ink. Inches from Dean, his hand moved over his erection with languid gestures. He licked his chapped lips and if they’d been anywhere else but in Baby, Dean would have asked to eat him out… but he was running out of patience.

Cas must have picked up on it, because he dug his fingers into one ass cheek, pulling Dean closer and lining himself up. Breath hitching into a deep, drawn-out moan, Dean moved both hands to Cas’ shoulders, legs wide, as he sank down on Cas’ dick until he bottomed out. Cheek pressed into Cas’ shoulder, he huffed, adjusting for a few seconds, before Cas gave a tentative roll of his hips. Dean sat up, so he could see his face, demon form rippling into reality, his wings unfurled and filling up Baby. A sound of complete surrender escaping, Cas watched, eyes darting over Dean’s face, until he pulled him in a kiss, tongue plunging into his mouth.

Relying on his innate strength, Dean rode Cas, speeding up, relishing Cas’ hands alternating between his hips and ass. Giving his palm a thorough lick, Cas’ hand closed around Dean’s erection and pumped, sending his mind off its hinges. Dean mewled in protest, sensing something through their bond...

“Cas!”

“Dean,” Cas hissed. “Switch…”

His eyes flew open, through the toe-curling feeling of denied orgasm, sensing the emotion behind Cas’ words, his chest swelling. He searched Cas’ face, taking in the sheen of sweat and dilated pupils.

“You want to switch?” he panted.

Squeezing at the base of his erection, Cas nodded, holding Dean’s gaze. “No more holding back. I want to feel you in me. _ Now._”

The request hit home. Cas had known Dean held back and the realisation that he no longer had to, that Cas could take whatever he brought to the table had him scrambling to accomodate. With a mutual fluttering of wings, they moved around until Cas was splayed on Baby’s back seat. Cas grabbed at Dean’s forearms, nails digging into the skin, legs falling open. “Oh, fuck, Cas, give me a minute to…”

No way was he letting the opportunity slide. Dean bent low between Cas’ legs, hooking his arms under, tongue flicking out to eat Cas out. He revelled in the writhing mess the angel became under his touch. Closing a hand around the base of Cas’ dick, he tried to take his time, despite Cas begging him to _ get a move on. _He pushed one finger in, watching Cas as he kissed his cock. Cas’ legs were over his shoulders, hands in his hair, eyes ablaze with his grace and he wondered if Baby would be able to take their combined power, coming off them in waves.

With a mix of sulking impatience and need thickening his voice, Cas’s tone turned to an order as he gripped fistfuls of Dean’s hair and pulled. “_Dean_.”

“Fuck,” Dean huffed with a smile.

He kissed and bit his way up Cas’ body, moving between his legs, one hand guiding himself in, slow and steady, drawing an extended animalistic sound from Cas. When he filled him up, he held Cas’ eyes as he slid out and slammed back in. Cas cried out, eyes wide, and with that, his wings materialized in a violent flurry of feathers. Dean slammed a palm against one of the foggy windows to stabilize himself, leaving a sloppy print, as he tried to hold on to his sanity and take in the moment. 

“Fuck me, Cas,” he groaned, kissing him. 

Smiling like the cat that got the cream, Cas locked his legs behind him, meeting his thrusts, heat shimmering the air between them. "The other way around now, Dean."

Dean willingly threw himself into the maelstrom that was their bond, unsure where he started and Cas ended.

There was barely room to close his hand over Cas’ dick between them, but he succeeded, chasing Cas’ orgasm. Dean latched on to his neck, biting down and heard Cas yell out in Enochian. The greedy side of him had the presence of mind to look at his face as he came, Dean’s name on his lips, blue eyes glowing bright. Locking an arm around Dean’s neck, he pulled him down into a wet kiss, teeth grazing his lips. Cas ran his nails over Dean’s back. Quite literally lost in all that Cas was and entailed, Dean held his forehead to his as he went over the edge, breathing into each other, and fireworks exploded behind his eyelids when they slid shut inevitably. Panting, blood rushing in his ears, he hid in the warmth of his neck, as Cas held onto him for dear life, muttering words of love and forever and fucking finally.

It took them a few minutes, laying in their sweaty, sticky, warm, sated mess. Dean placed kisses in Cas’ neck and down his collarbone, until he felt him wince. He shifted his considerable weight and heard the sigh. “Wings?”

“Are fine, but could use some space,” Cas smiled.

Dean slipped out of him and flopped back on one side of Baby’s backseat. “I see why this couldn’t wait.”

“I wonder if anyone can pick us up… Like angel radio.”

He barked a laugh. “I hope for their sake they can’t.”

Plucking up the scattered items, he tried to make out which pieces of clothing were whose in the dark. They reassembled their outfits and Dean got out of the car, inhaling the chilly night air. He leaned down to look at Cas who was hugging his trench instead of putting it on.

“Shotgun or are you falling asleep there?”

“Shotgun, shotgun. I get to pick the music,” Cas murmured, fatigue weighing his words down.

“Umm, no,” Dean said, dead-pan.

He held the door open for Cas to stumble out and straightened his tie.

Cas squinted at him, visibly upset. “Really? After all this time, still a no?”

Shaking his head, Dean smiled as they slid into the front.

“Not even your gift?”

He shot Cas a long look, which impressively he held, keeping his eyes wide and sweet. “Yeah, no.”

Cas made a face at him and pushed himself deeper into the seat. The rest of the ride home was silent, the cabin awaiting them, steeped in the cloak of night’s blues and blacks. Dean cut the engine, jingling the keys.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you.”

*

Castiel felt the cotton-ball effect of fatigue in his head, but something in Dean’s tone drew him out. His brain skittered around looking for a reasonable ‘something’, but failed. “Oh?”

“Yeah, oh,” Dean chuckled. “Let me get some blankets. I’ll meet you on the deck.” He trotted off at a light skip.

Castiel walked over to the back of the cabin. When he looked up, he was sure the stars were brighter than they had been the first time around. He stretched his wings out, fully flaring, the wind breezing through. The front door fell shut and Dean walked up to him, arms full of thick blankets and a bag dangling from his arm.

Castiel turned, only to find Dean drinking him in. His voice was soft when he spoke.

“Hey, can you use some of your mojo to clean us up?”

Castiel crinkled his nose and gave a gentle wave of his hand. A brief gust of wind bursting through made Dean blink his eyes and puffed up their clothing. When the effect faded, he smiled at Cas, eyes alight. “Man, I’ve missed that. Come on.”

There was a nervous undercurrent in Dean, as they walked into the garden. It was pitch-black, the sound of quiet night and their boots through the grass all they heard. Dean stopped and started laying out the blankets in two layers.

“Dean? We’re sleeping out here?”

“Morning won’t be long,” Dean said, as he started removing his jacket. “But I finished the project. Seems like a good night to show you. C’mere, angel.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but their bond betrayed the flip-flopping of his heart. “I kinda hope that never gets old,” he smiled.

They both toed off their boots and Castiel sat down on the blankets, putting his trench aside. Dean was squatting, his eyes twinkling in the dark. The sound of leathery wings reached Castiel's ears and he sighed in contentment at Dean in his glorious demon form. He lifted his burgundy hand and snapped his fingers. For a few seconds, Castiel didn’t see anything change, but then, starting with the tiniest flame flickering to life to their left, one by one a circle of lights lit in a 20 feet diameter. In the middle, sparks crackled to life and a fire roared up, the light bouncing off the rough stones laid out in a circle. He looked straight at the fire, its heat warming his skin, realisation sinking in. He searched Dean’s eyes.

“A… fire pit?”

“And a bottle of that demon booze you wanted to try while you were still human.” 

Dean thrust a thumb over his shoulder. “Open windows. A crackling fire. And,” Dean said, as he flicked his wrist to look at his watch, “morning is soon upon us, so we can watch the sun rise. Have an early morning breakfast. As many as you want, Cas.”

Dean circled his arms around his knees, the black sleeves tight at his shoulders. His eyes shining in the light of the fire, Dean smiled at him. The full package, eyes like liquid gold, crinkles at the sides, freckles catching the light, all dimples and teeth. Castiel huffed at the sight and his luck. The word love would never capture what he felt for Dean, but he leaned into their bond in an attempt to convey the message. Lowering his gaze, Dean looked shy and Castiel knew he sensed his sudden whirlwind of emotions.

Looking up at him through his long lashes, Dean looked pleased with himself. Even in the dark, Castiel saw the blush on his cheeks as he gave a brief shake of his head. Castiel heard his voice, though his lips didn’t move.

_ Yeah, right back at you, Cas. _

There it was. That moment. That bond.

Beyond time and space. Beyond all planes of existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, let me thank you from the bottom of my heart to take the time to join me and the characters on this journey. This was a work of love, frantic writing and a lot of re-visiting... True to form, it isn't half what I'd want it to be, but that's the average curse of the writer.
> 
> I think this the end of the road for this particular incarnation of our boys, though sometimes I feel a tug for writing timestamps. Who knows? I am however not done with Destiel by a long shot, so... if you're interested, bookmark or subscribe.
> 
> Comments are of course very welcome! They feed the muze and make the happy that all these words landed in more ways than just mute appreciation.


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